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grippingbeskar · 1 year

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salt, ice and fire | frank castle

chapter twenty six - you bring me home

frank castle x fem! reader

warnings: 18+ content minors dni! (car sex lmaooo, mxf nothing you haven’t seen before, its pretty sweet <3) swearing, canon typical violence, mention of scars, injuries, blood, literally packed everything into this chapter its a big one

a/n: wow. this was so rough oh my god. the entire first draft deleted itself and i had to re write the whole thing from memory, so i lost my planned chapter. i really hope i got everything in here, and im sorry for the wait AND how long it is lmao but i just. can’t believe i really finished it. ill rant at the end, but if you only read this part, i love you. thank you for letting me share the absolute vomit that is my brain. you are the best.

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“How was the drive?” Franks voice sends a shiver down your spine, even hundreds of miles away through a crappy phone line.

“Boring.” You sigh, pacing around the tiny motel room.

“You were meant to call an hour ago. Got me waitin’ up for you.” He sounds tired, and it makes your heart skip a beat. It’s stupid, but the image makes you a little giddy. Waiting up for you.

“There was… traffic.”

“You get lost?”

“Fuck you.” You bite automatically and he groans.

“So yeah?”

“Yes, Frank. I got lost.” He laughs, the sound managing to take your mind off the dark room you’d managed to secure for the night, the bedside light doing nothing to brighten the small space.

“I gave you a map. It’s a straight shot from where you started.” Rolling your eyes, you look at the map you’d now bundled into a ball and thrown into the trash.

“Who uses a printed map? Seriously, how fucking old are you?” It’s playful and familiar, and all the frustration of driving for 10 hours melts into the bed.

Being a key witness in a now ongoing case apparently didn’t come with any frequent flyer miles, because both Matt and Frank had said you couldn’t risk going through airport security and being flagged in a system, so it meant you had to drive nearly 18 hours to Florida. You thought you didn’t mind road trips, but after today you think it’s only road trips with Frank you don’t mind.

“Maps don’t change, baby. Besides, you’d drive yourself into a god damn tree the second that voice in the car told you you’d missed a turn.” You hate that he’s right— even the thought of that monotone voice droning in your ear for ten hours makes you cringe.

“Whatever. Tell me about something. You said you were going to speak to Madani today?” He’s the one sighing now, and clearly the talk was about as fun as your drive.

“She’s all over the place. Some mishandled evidence fucked their entire case, and Bobby’s lawyers were too well paid to let it go. Murdock said they’ll be able to find more— the appeal’s already been approved cause of how high profile it is, but he’s got no new evidence. He said he doesn’t know if they can get him.”

“That’s… what I expected, I guess.” Frank agrees, and your sudden silence only serves to bring the real issue to hand. “You know where he is?”

“Yeah. I got it covered.” The line goes quiet, and you don’t really know what to say.

On one hand, you want Bobby dead. You know can’t do it- it wasn’t smart, and the last thing you were going to do is drag everything Matt and Madani had worked for through the mud for someone like him, let alone put Sam in danger. Some fucked up part of you is a little mad that it won’t be you, but Frank has every reason to hate him as much as you. You know Frank wants this, and that telling him to stop is like waving a red flag in front of a bull. Your hesitation would only spur him to do it faster, be more impulsive. You don’t want to say anything to put him off.

On the other, you just want him with you. You worry like some love sick child, scared he’s walked out the door and isn’t coming back. You worry he’ll get caught, and end up in the exact spot he was trying to get you out of. You’re scared he’ll get hurt, or worse. Every time you close your eyes you can see him bleeding out, dark red staining your hands until you can scream yourself awake. There’s so many things that could go wrong, and ten hours staring over the hood of your car gives you way too much time to think about hypotheticals.

“It’s gonna be okay.” Frank says softly, and you flop yourself back on the single bed.

“Are you?” He huffs like the question is irrelevant.

“Madani asked about your dad today.” He ignores the question, and you’re too interested to poke him on it.

“Oh?”

“Asked what he knew about your time there. If he ever worked with the Gnucci’s.” A lump forms in your throat.

“You think she knows about the weird... blood stuff?”

“Don’t see why she would. Either way, it’s not gonna matter once he’s dead.” The bluntness of it almost makes you laugh. “He’ll be gone, and no one will come for it. Or you.”

“You don’t have to do this for me, Frank.”

“I’m not.” He pauses, and then sighs. “Alright, I am, but not just that. The shit he said to me in there— the things he said about you. The way he looked at you in there… I watched that shit, and there’s no way in hell that asshole does what he did and lives.”

“What if he was found guilty? Would you of left it alone?” Maybe if you’d been more helpful to Matt and Madani, it would of gone better, and Frank would be here.

“You want me to answer that?” A part of you knew he wasn’t going to let it go. That wasn’t who he was. It shouldn’t make you feel the way it does to know that Frank would kill for you— just to make you safe. It does anyway, and heat flushes over your face.

“Maybe you shouldn’t.” He agrees, a low sound rumbling from his end of the phone. “I spent most of the day wishing you were with me, you know.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Turns out I fucking hate driving.” He laughs again, and if you could listen to the sound all night you think you’d sleep peacefully.

“You remember how mad you were that first time I didn’t let you drive?” Shaking your head, you flick off the lights slide under the covers.

“I was mad because you had a concussion and tried to fucking kill us.”

“Least I was gonna go the right way.”

“You tried switching drivers on the freeway, Castle.”

“Alright, I was a a bit out of it.” He says plainly and you smile so wide it hurts your cheeks. “Wished you were here, too.”

“I bet you did.” He groans, and you hear him shift on the bed. Your bed.

“Too much space in here. Didn’t even know we had this much blanket.” He makes a real noisy show of it, tossing around the blankets you usually roll yourself up in. It’s meant to be a light hearted thing, but for some reason the idea of Frank spread out on your shared bed, one that you’ve both used extensively— it makes your heart race.

“Dickhead.” He groans again, shuffling around some more. “This one’s too small. Probably have to sleep on top of each other if you were here.”

“M’alright with that.”

“Not a lot of room to move, though.” You look around at the room, hardly enough space to stand in the corner.

“We’d figure something out.” You let your eyes flutter closed, humming high pitched at the idea. “What are you thinkin’ about, sweetheart?”

“You.” You admit, and he seems to like it.

“Me too. Haven’t gone a night in this apartment without fuckin’ you in this bed. Drivin’ me crazy.” You hum again, pressing your thighs together to try and dissipate the heat that’s suddenly overtaken your whole body. “You thinkin’ about it now too, aren’t you baby?”

“Yeah, Frank.”

“Don’t say my name like that.” He growls, and you bite your lip to hide your laugh.

“Why not, Frank?” You practically purr the word, drawing it out and saying it all breathy like you do when he’s teasing you.

“Cause you’re gonna make me drive ten hours just to fuck you in whatever dirty motel you pulled off into.” You’re still smiling, but you think if you keep messing with him, he’d do it. He’d drive ten hours, a hundred of them if it meant teaching you a lesson. Or just being with you. “I’ll see you soon. Real soon, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You breathe out, knowing if you keep talking to him your entire plan will crumble in front of you, because you’re half considering driving home just to sleep next to him. “Soon. Be safe, okay?”

The words tumble out, and you try to hide the guilt you feel when you say them. He was only not safe because of you— because you couldn’t finish the job yourself. You’re glad he can’t see your face, because you hear him mumble on the other end and your eyes close listening to him.

“Always. Tell the kid I said hi.” With that, Frank hangs up the phone, and you slide it onto the table right next to the pistol you keep loaded and ready to fire.

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Frank pulls the saturated beanie over his head, and it’s probably doing more harm than good at this point, but he doesn’t have a second to really give a shit. His eye-line is perfect— directed straight into the penthouse apartment Bobby Gnucci was driven to three hours ago. He’s been tucked away in the corner of the rooftop for just as long, watching the man pace and yell on the phone.

It had taken him a few goes to get the right frequency to listen in on the calls he was making, but once he had he took as much information done as he could. He’d had enough of watching, and now he was satisfied with the phones calls he’d listened to that the man was alone for the night; not counting his extensive security team layered through the apartment block. Frank felt the familiar hum in his veins, shoving his loaded pistol in his jeans and swinging the strap of a rifle over his shoulder, he headed down the stairs, across the street and slipped into the back of the building.

There’d be witnesses if he didn’t take the right route, and to make this work he needed every chance at an alibi he could get. He was so used to not caring— every time he’d gone into something like this, he didn’t have something to get back to. He had no preservation, no concern for what came after. Hell, if he was honest, he didn’t care if he went out doing something like this. He would of preferred it, maybe even hoped he’d die somewhere in the cross fire.

Even just talking to you on the phone had him itching to get back to you now. He wanted to be careful— something he never really thought of before. A heavy ache in his stomach that twisted something violent when he thought about not getting home, not making good on his promise from a few hours ago, it made him sick. He planned as much as he could, as much as he was capable of, and hoped to God it was enough.

Frank hid his body behind the corner of the wall. He hid his face, too, even though he’d already had Micro’s help shutting out the cameras. He knew it would set off alarms for the security team, but he planned for that. They’d spread out, follow orders that he’d listened to over the radio, three men on all the entries and exits, and then ten through the penthouse. If he timed it right, he could clear the first few levels before the guards arrived.

He didn’t care about making noise now— slamming his way up the fire access while Gnucci’s men no doubt got into position. He’d just past a number 6, and Bobby was on the top floor. 23. He kept going, not hearing any doors open. When he passed 9, the door on the level below him cracked open and he jammed through the next exit he reached, getting into position.

He could hear voices coming from his right, and steadied himself as he turned the safety off his gun. He had a small army of men to get through, but he knew if he could make it, landing the hit on Bobby would be easy.

He wasn’t nervous. Pure adrenaline flooded him, like it always did, and he didn’t think twice before standing out of cover and pulling the trigger.

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“How have you grown so much?!” You nearly shout, hugging Sam tighter as he all but latches onto your leg. “God, you’re gonna be my height soon.”

“I missed you!” He says, words muffled in your jacket. You don’t even have to bend really, he’s that tall. It is even possible for him to grow that much in just a month? “Come! I want to show you my stuff. Me and Niko share a room, and it’s the coolest thing…”

You let him drag you around the house, showing you the bunk beds that are set up for him and Nikolai. He shows you books he’s brought home from school, and it makes you smile how chaotic his room is. There’s piles of books and papers everywhere, stuffed under the bed and nearly toppling on the tables. It looks like it’s lived in… like a home, and your heart warms and breaks all at once.

When he finally finishes his impromptu tour, he pulls you outside where the rest of the family has set themselves up, and runs out into the giant back yard to chase after Nikolai. You hardly had a chance to say hello to them, but if you were honest you hadn’t thought of anything but Sam since you saw him.

“Did he show you the bunk beds?” The doctor— Zaed, you remind yourself, comes up behind you on the deck. “He hasn’t stopped talking about showing you.”

“I thought he was gonna explode.” Zaed laughs, and you turn to look at him. He’s still sporting a scar across his forehead, and it somehow makes his older features look slightly hardened. His face was still soft, something about him gesturing kindness, an observation you never made in the months you were locked away. “He told me you made them.”

“It took me weeks. I am not very… handy.” Smiling, you turn back to watch Sam and Nikolai screaming and laughing as they chase each other with Nerf guns. “I am sorry for what happened with the case.”

“So am I. If he’d gone away, you wouldn’t have to stay in Witness Protection.” He nods, turning away for a second only to return and offer you a can of something. “What is it?”

“It’s Russian. You’ll like it— it’s strong.” You crack it open and take a long drink, hoping to drown the rising anxiety that kneads the back of your mind at the thought of what Frank was doing right now. “We don’t mind it so much here.”

“Florida?” He nods.

“We want to stay. Corinne thinks the children— with what they’ve been through, shouldn’t move too much. They seem happy here.” You hum in agreement, listening to the light squeals of the youngest girl, who’s name you haven’t learnt yet, who’s got the biggest Nerf gun of all and is shooting the shit out of both boys. “It was my idea. To offer to take him in. If you are upset, please lay the blame with me—“

“Upset? God, why would I ever be upset?” He blinks in surprise, looking to you.

“You are here with him, and yet you still seem far away. I figured the suggestion was weighing on you. We only offer because… well, we have all grown quite fond of him, and for you— to you we owe our lives. I thought if we could make any of this easier…” You shake your head, finishing the bitter liquid in the can.

“You looking after Sam is about one of two good things I have going right now.” Zaed seems to relax, leaning forward onto the railing as you both stare out to watch the kids. “I think he’s happy here.”

“He is. He misses you, but he is happy.”

“And safe.”

“Of course. I pity anyone who would try to get past Corinne now.” You laugh at the tinge of genuine anxiety in his voice, as if he imagines it, but his eyes are full of admiration.

“I want to talk to him about it… make sure he’s okay, but if he wants to, I think him staying here would be the best thing for him.” Zaed doesn’t answer right away, just lets the echoed laughter of the kids fill both of your ears before he nods simply.

“He will be safe. And I am sure you will learn to love Florida, too, with how much you will visit?”

“What?” Again, a look of surprise crosses his face.

“Sam did not show you the spare room? We have cleared a space for you— whenever you need it. You… it is the least I could do. You saved my life—“

“Hardly.”

“I owe you it. My families life. My own. Whatever you should need here, the door would be open to you.” You have to look away, because it’s too much, and you don’t know when you became so soft that shit like this made you tear up.

“You don’t owe me anything. You keeping Sam safe is everything I ever wanted. I think we’re even now.” You laugh, your throat suddenly feeling a little tight.

“I couldn’t help but notice you arrived alone.” He questions, and you hide your face, unsure if the way you chew on your bottom lip gives too much away.

“Yeah.” No amount of alcohol could drown out the thought of Frank. You hadn’t heard from him in a day. Zaed looks at you, his eyes crinkling as he assess you.

“I thought he was going to drown with you that night. When he saw you go into the water… I recognise that look in a man’s eyes.” It seems so long ago now, and your hand instinctively goes to your stomach, where Frank sewed you up the first time. “He is coming soon, I assume? I doubt he would let you get too far from him right now.”

“Yeah, he’s…” You trust Zaed— but there’s only one person who takes precedent over the people taking care of your brother. “He’s just finishing up some stuff with the case in New York. He should be on his way now.”

“Ah.” He says, his eyes lingering on you in question. You say nothing, just sink a little more of the can. “Well, when he kills the ублюдок, I hope he makes it last.”

Before you can recover and wipe the shock off your face long enough to ask him how the hell he guessed what Frank is doing, Sam and Nikolai are in front of you, and Zaed disappears back into the house.

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Frank grunts, a loud nearly animalistic sound vibrating off the walls as he clears the 23rd floor. Every time he breathes out, blood sprays out of his mouth. He can’t tell if it’s his own or he’s just covered in so much that it’s dripping off him. Either way he can’t help it, chest burning for oxygen after he laid the lower floors to absolute waste.

He’d ditched the assault rifle somewhere between the 18th and 19th floors, not even bothering to pull out his pistol. No— he’d fought every single one of them with his bare hands, and anything he could find scattered between dead bodies.

His right hand was fucked, and he’s pretty sure he got shot. Somewhere on the right side of his body, there’s a shooting pain between his thigh and his ribs, but it’s not enough to slow him down. He shoves his body weight into the penthouse door, throwing himself into guards he knows are ready and waiting for him. He reaches for his pistol, shooting three guys in the head before his eyes adjust to the dimmer lights in the room.

He hears them shouting orders, and he kills three more as he crosses the living room. One of them he puts through the TV screen, glass shattering under his hand as he crushes the man’s skull between the hard surface. The other two he shoots, and then moves towards the last four. All of them shield the door to the bedroom— putting their lives on the line for a man who doesn’t deserve the air he’s wasting.

Frank doesn’t have a moral compass when it comes to revenge. Not when it has to do with the people he loves. It’s why he clears the round of bullets in his gun on all four of them in less than thirty seconds, watching the lifeless bodies pile up in the doorway, there isn’t a single moment that he hesitates.

“Bobby!” Frank shouts, his voice horse and so loud he’s got no doubt the dead hear it.

He hears shuffling, and drops the pistol before stomping his way through into the bedroom. He sees Bobby, crawling across the floor in an attempt to reach for a gun dropped by one of the guards, but just as he goes to reach for it, Frank slams a bloody boot down on top of his hand, feeling the crush of bone under his weight.

“Fuck!” He shouts, and Frank smiles sickly, blood dripping from his teeth. “Get the fuck off me, you animal!”

Frank kicks him in the face, two of his teeth flying out and scattering across the carpet. As he rolls over, Frank grabs him by the collar and sits him up, watching his head lull to the side.

“Wake up.” Frank slams his fist into his skull. There was no way he was passing out this fast. Not after what he’s done. “Wake the fuck up.”

His hands shake with how hard he’s holding Bobby upright. So hard he feels the bone of his collar begin to give, and Frank chases the idea. Bobby thrashes, screaming as his eyes shoot open, the sound kicking Frank back into gear. He lets go of his shoulder long enough to pull back, only to drive his fist and crack the rest of his shoulder.

“Help m—“ Bobby tries to shout, but Frank shuts him off with another well placed shove of his weight into Bobby’s stomach, winding him. He wheezes, the pathetic sound something like music to Franks ears.

He punches him again— over and over. Not enough to kill him, though. No, Frank wasn’t done, he was just feeding the thrill. He’d been waiting too fucking long for this, and there was something satisfying about seeing this man— this weak excuse for a man being blinded by his own blood as he cries for someone to help him.

“Ain’t no one comin’ for you.” He growls, and grabs Bobby’s face so it hangs straight. His jaw is slack, but his eyes go wide when he feels the blade at his ribs. “You know that? That there ain’t a single person out there comin’ for you. No one gives a shit about you. You’re alone in here— your life in my hands.”

“Haaa—“ Bobby tries but whatever it is fades out into a scream when Frank slides the blade between his third and fourth rib. Slowly— real fucking slow. “They… they’ll come. Th-They’ll come f-for me.”

“No one’s comin’. Dead. All of ‘em. You’re alone.” He slides it a little deeper, watching the realisation wash over his face.

In truth, Frank wasn’t doing this for him. Sure, it felt fucking good, and Frank was enjoying the sight of the life draining out of his eyes, but he wants him to know why. Why he’s here, why he took out every last man in this building so he knew there was no hope. No one for him to go to.

He knew that’s what it was like for you. Frank couldn’t give you back those years, and he couldn’t take that much time with this— he’d thought about it, but he wanted this to end here and now. He could do this here, for you. Could make him know just how it feels to have all that power beat out of you, and know that there’s no one out there coming to save you.

“Stop…stop!” He wails, and Frank hits him harder. Every crack of his fist sends Bobby further into unconsciousness, and when he manages to stop himself, he shakes him awake again.

He gurgles on his own blood, dark red pools choking out of his mouth. His face is unrecognisable, already starting to blow up as he strangles in a few short breaths.

“I can… I have money. I can p—“ The effort of the words sprays another load of blood out of his mouth, and even though he’s exhausted, Frank laughs.

“You think I want money?” He leans down, yanking the knife out of his ribs and shoving it in again.

“Fuck! What do you—what do you want?!” Bobby wails again. Frank smiles.

“I want you to know that she’s the reason you’re dead. The last thing you’ll know is me— my face, and you’ll know it’s because you ended up just like you made her. Except she got out, and you never will.” Frank loses sense of time, his injuries starting to catch up with him as he yanks the knife out one more time, before slamming it home into Bobby’s skull.

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“I’m watching!” You shout as Sam lines up again, taking a few steps back before rushing forward and kicking the ball towards their make shift goal in the yard. You have to admit, for only been playing a few weeks, he’s got a hell of a kick on him.

“See! I’m getting better— my coach says next year I can try out for the first grade team if I keep training!” He’s smiling so big, and then he’s gone again, picking up the ball to take another shot at Nikolai who’s got goalkeeper gloves on, ready to catch it.

You’d be happy to watch this all day, but then Corinne calls out to you, telling you your phone is ringing, and you all but leap over the railing of the deck. When you race inside, you expect to see Franks name, and your heart sinks when you don’t. You knew he wouldn’t be able to call until it was over, but it’s been nearly two days since you’d heard anything. Then, you see it’s an unknown number calling, and your hands are shaking when you disappear into what is meant to be ‘your’ room to answer.

“Hello?” You recognise the voice instantly when she says your name. “Fucking hell, Karen. You scared me. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, but are you?!” She nearly shouts, and you are still coming back to your mind with relief it wasn’t someone telling you Frank was dead. “I don’t even know how you did it, but I don’t want to. The way they found him… Jesus.”

“Wait. What? Karen, I’m in Florida.”

“What?”

“I’m with my brother in Florida. I came up here two days ago after the trial.” She goes quiet, and you can hear the commotion in the background. Remembering it’s a Tuesday, and that she must be at work, it only furthers your suspicions. “Who’s dead?”

“Bobby is. They found him. They found his body— but…”

“Karen, tell me.” All you need to hear is Frank wasn’t found. That he got out of there before anyone saw him. It would be your fault— all of it would be your fault if he was found. You needed to get back, you needed—

“Sorry. Sorry, I just thought… with everything that happened before, I thought it might of been you. Bobby’s dead, but… there’s nearly 50 men in the building with him. They’re all dead. And Bobby; he was hardly recognisable. It took them nearly 24 hours to identify him.”

“24 hours?” Frank needed to get out of New York as soon as he killed Bobby. If the police had been crawling around there for nearly a day… “Karen, I gotta go. Thank you for calling.”

You cut it off before she responds, and call the only number saved in your phone. It only rings twice before he answers, and you could nearly cry when you hear his voice.

“Stop fuckin’ ringin’ me, Murdock. I don’t know shit and I’m busy.” He grumbles through the phone, and you choke out something between a laugh and a sob. “Oh, fuck. Sorry— hey, sweetheart. Was just about to call you.”

“It’s… did the— job go okay?” You try to calm your voice as best you can, knowing that if anyone traces the call he’s done for.

“It took me longer than I thought. Had to get stitched up, then Curtis drove me halfway— passed out for most of it.” Before you can ask, he answers. “I’m fine, don’t do that.”

“You’re okay?” Relief floods your body, phone nearly slipping out of your hand with how hard you were gripping it. “Everything’s… everything’s okay?”

“Come see for yourself. I’m pulling up.” Like a kid on Christmas, you toss the phone and basically sprint to the front door, hearing an unfamiliar truck rumble down the isolated street.

He’s driving, clearly having ditched Curtis, but when he gets out he’s got a limp, and his hand is bandaged. You don’t run, instead you stand in the driveway and soak up the image— Frank; leaning against the door of the truck, sunglasses covering up what you have no doubt are black eyes. Alive. Favouring his left side and still with dried blood on his head, but fucking here.

“You’re hurt.” You say it when you finally reach him, but it sounds pathetic, closer to the tone you’d whimper his name in.

“Don’t worry about it.” He says huskily and reaches out, yanking you forward and slamming his mouth to yours.

The soft touch of his bandaged hand is opposite to the greedy grasp of his free one, the one wrapping around your back and fisting the material of your shirt, pressing so you were flush against him. Both of your hands cup his face, feeling the rough surface of his skin. You lose yourself in the taste of him as your fingers trace the patterns of scars peppering around his head— a constellation you’ve memorised a million times over, and yet it still feels as illuminating as the first.

He groans your name, sliding his hand up to grip your jaw, thumb tugging on your bottom lip. You lean back slightly, staying at close to him as possible. His eyes look you up and down, and there’s a glint in his eye; a hunger that never seems to be satiated when he looks at you. He’s still feverish for it, and it makes your toes curl in your shoes.

“Fuckin’ missed you.” He mumbles against your lips, and it makes you smile against his.

“I can tell.” His other hand forgets it’s injury as he searches your body, gripping your hips and pressing you closer.

“Get Sam. Let’s go home.” He tucks his head lower, mouth kissing under your jaw, and as much as you do want to get the fuck out of here with him, you pull away.

“He’s… he’s staying here.” Frank pushes the sunglasses off his face, looking at you through what is actually only one bruised eye.

“Staying?” You nod. “You sure?”

“I talked to him about it. He fucking loves it here, Frank. He didn’t want me to go again, but you should of seen him with them. They treat him like their own, and he adores them. It’s so much better than anything I could of thought.” Frank wraps his arms around your back and hugs you right, and your eyes flutter closed. “And you can’t just leave. They’re expecting you to come in and say hi.”

“Why?” The way he says it makes you laugh, as if you’d just asked him to drink gasoline.

“Come on.” You tug him by the wrists, and even though he groans and leans on you up the driveway, you both stagger inside and follow the sounds of Sam’s laughter, leaving everything else behind.

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“They were being nice.” You haven’t wiped the smile off your face since you slid into the passenger seat this morning. “Well, I slept great. I don’t know what you’re complaining about.”

“Mhmm.” Frank grumbles, clearing having a much worse sleep than you did.

It was sweet, and truely, you wanted to take them up on it. When Frank dragged himself through the front door of where Sam had been staying, everyone had nearly jumped on him. Sam couldn’t contain himself, clearly trying to play it cool but simultaneously thinking Frank was the coolest person he’d ever met. It was sweet, the way Frank was with the kids, the sight making you both smile and want to cry.

Either way, when Corinne and Zaed had offered for you both to stay the night, Frank agreed and all but dragged you down the hallway after dinner. The spare room was nice— set up clearly for two people, and you were only human.

It would have been perfect— had the room not been sharing a wall with your brother and his new best friend. A very fucking thin wall. One that was nearly vibrating with how loud they screamed every five minutes playing some game on the TV. The louder they were, the more it became apparent that neither of you would be getting a lot of sleep, and not in the good way.

Having Frank that close all night but not being able to do anything about it reminded you of the start of this whole thing. How you shared a bed with him but had to force yourself to keep your hands to yourself. It was borderline painful, but eventually you managed to drift off to sleep, not missing how hard Franks hands were gripping your hips like he had to physically cement himself to stop from fucking you through the bed.

When you woke up, Frank had all your shit shoved in the car, and was outside cooking pancakes with Sam. You took your time saying goodbye— making sure to thank both Corinne and Zaed properly, and then promising you’ll be back. Soon. ‘So soon you won’t even have time to miss me’ you’d promised Sam, and he grinned and hugged you before disappearing to get ready for school.

“Where are we going, anyway?” Frank looked to you before shifting in his seat, one of his hands resting on your thigh and squeezing.

“Got a stop to make before getting back to New York.” You’d been driving for a while now— about half way between New York and where you’d left Sam. You turned in your seat, resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

“Don’t be cryptic.” You try to sound assertive, but you can’t seem to hold any resentment when you could feel the warmth of him palm on your thigh.

“It’s close, alright? Promise.” The words eased something in your chest, the same way his smile did when he looked at you.

A small silence drifted between you as a Billy Joel song hummed softly on the radio, and your head dropped, eyes tracing over the bruises left on his knuckles. Your fingers dance around them, careful to keep your touches light. You follow the lines of black and blue up over his wrist, watching them disappear under the arm of his jumper. Your curiosity gets the better of you, and when you push up the sleeve just slightly, you swear loudly.

“Fucking hell! Is this broken?” You pull the sleeve up higher, and you tighten your grip on his wrist when he goes to pull away. If you hadn’t watched him so closely, you would of missed the way he winced, and you let go immediately. “Sorry. Sorry— fuck, Frank. Is this all from—“

“I’m fine. Just a couple scratches.” He says, keeping his blackened eyes trained on the road. It would of been easy to miss— not seeing him without clothes since he’d come back. Bile rises in your throat at the thought he was hurt because of you— because he was doing this for you. Suffering for you. Like he has the entire time.

“Are you lying?” He shakes his head, and you lightly poke him in the side. He hissed loudly, flinching away from you and swerving the car. “Pull over.”

“I’m not pulling over.” Frank groans.

“You’ve been driving for hours, just—“

“It’s fine. We only got a few more miles till—“

“Please.” There must have been something in your voice, some kind of soft vulnerability that even he isn’t used to hearing, and then the car is pulling off the side of an empty highway, dusk rolling over the hood of the truck.

You reach out, pulling the sunglasses off his face to reveal him slowly. This part you’ve seen, but it still knocks the wind out of you. The cut along his cheekbone, not deep enough to need stitches but you know it will scar over. His right eye is a deep purple, the left nearly green. You go to draw your fingers over his face, but hesitate, worried you’ll hurt him. He sees you pulling back and catches your wrist, placing your palm between his cheek and his own hand.

“Don’t do that.” You choke out a laugh, smoothing your hand over and back into his slightly longer hair, pulling him closer over the console of the car.

“I’m not doing anything.” You say softly, something guilty in your voice. When he hears it, he shakes his head at you.

“Can read you like a book. You got nothin’ to do with this, alright?”

“I have nothing to do with it?” You want to laugh. “I’m the reason you were there. The reason all this happened.”

“I would of been in the same place with or without you. This part?” He gestures to himself, his torso that you know all too well is littered with scars. “This isn’t a part you blame yourself for.”

“But it is. My fault.” He opens his mouth but you talk first. “All of this… watching those kids today, watching Sam— all I ever did was put him in danger. And you. It’s better for him to be there, away from all this. Away from me. Maybe now all this is over, it would be better…safer, if you—“

“Stop. I don’t wanna hear that shit. You know how selfish you sound?” You blink a few times, eyes meeting his. At some point he’s leaned even closer, and you can feel the heat of his body thawing you out. “You’re right— I wouldn’t of gone back to New York the past two days if it wasn’t for you. You know why?”

“Listen—“

“No. I wouldn’t of gone back because I would of killed that asshole six months ago and been home in time for dinner. I’ve been doin’ this a long time, and there’s nothin’ you could of done that would of changed how this ended.” He holds your face up to his, rough hands holding you as gently as they could, and his thumb traces the scar just above your eyebrow. “Sam is safe with them, but don’t think for one fuckin’ second he’s better off without you. God knows I’m not. You’ve done nothin’ but good for that kid, and I’d… fucking hell. I’d be dead without you, you know that?”

“No you wouldn’t.” Your voice was so soft it hardly broke the silence, but he leaned in, his forehead pressing to yours. “You could probably jump out of a building and walk it off.”

“Maybe. But now I gotta be careful nd’ come home to you, don’t I?” He smiles, and then kisses you and you forget where you are. Words die on your tongue and are replaced by the taste of him, mind freezing over when he touches you. He does it every time. Every time he manages to take your breath away with one whisper of your name, one swipe of his thumb over your mouth. It’s intoxicating and dependant, something you never thought you’d want, but it feels so good with him. His hands drop to your waist, their pull demanding and needy as he yanks you up and over the centre console and onto his lap.

“I’d do it again. All of it. Kill every single—“ You kiss him again, squeezing your eyes shut, and he groans as you shift on his lap. “Fuck, baby we should wait till…”

“Till when?” You say breathlessly, and despite his words his hands are already sneaking underneath your shirt, his cool hands meeting your feverish skin. You can hardly keep your eyes open, and your hips roll forward again, seeking him out. “I want you now, Frank.”

“Fuck it. Doesn’t matter.” He says and then crashes into you, your back nearly pressing against the dash with how quick he moves. Your gasp of surprise is lost in his mouth, and you can feel the sparks he makes in your chest crackling their way through you, toes curling in your shoes.

Your half bent backwards, legs in either side of his as he keeps your chest pressed to him, both arms wrapping around you to hold you steady. You tug at his shirt helplessly, getting it stuck around his arm and he smiles against your mouth, leaning back to look at you before whipping it over his head.

In the dark of the room last night you wouldn’t of seen it, but now the lights streaming in from the car window, and Franks torso is nearly a rainbow in it— blue, purple and green bruises all up his side, with a short but deep cut on the low right side of his abdomen. He’s taken the bandage off it too early, the stitches still healing, but you can tell it’s expert work. Much better than the botched job you did a month or so back, something he still bares the reminders for.

“Just… just a couple scratches, huh?” He grunts something illegible and hauls you back to him.

“Shut up.” He keeps you pressed close, not giving you a chance to say something back, but then his hands dip lower and you’re a goner.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Yeah. Fuck waiting.

He’s got you here— now, on top of him, and he can’t even fucking think of anything else. Your hands are being so gentle and cautious when he really couldn’t care less about the pain, but you do. You always do.

He wasn’t gonna waste another second, and seeing your eyes close the second he got your pants off and dipped his hands between your legs… it’s pretty much as close to heaven as he was going to get.

You fall forward, Frank catching you with one arm and pulling you close while the other continues slow, teasing circles just how he knows gets you all worked up. Your head tucks away into his neck, and he lets you hide for now, but when he’s got you home— real home, then he’ll be able to look at you as much as he god damn wants.

Your hips move against him, chasing his slow rhythm, and he feels your teeth scrape agains this neck, wordlessly rushing him along.

“You need me that bad?” He says lowly, and watches in awe the way his words wash over you and yank you closer to the edge. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Shouldn’t of left you so needy—“

“Fuckkk… right there—please.” Your voice was so high it cracks a little, and it fucking sets him on fire.

“Get my belt for me, baby.” He whispers, feigning a bit of self control as he watches you quickly fumble with the buckle. The slight brush of your hands could finish him then and there, and he had to squeeze his eyes shut to try and remember why he wanted to wait. He had just one more card to play— one that you’d seen him play a few times before, but he doesn’t think you expect it this time, and he needed some semblance of composure to remember it.

A real house, white picket fence and all, smack bang on halfway between New York and Florida. He couldn’t leave New York, not ever, but he had a new anchor now, one that deserved to have it all.

Frank planned to take you straight home. Make a ten hour drive and keep his hands to himself, but how the fuck could he when you were like this? Looking like you do, touching him so fucking sweet and soft and saying how much you missed every part of him— it was a dream come to life, and one of the few moments he’d let himself go in.

You shuffle as close as the seat allows, your now naked chest pressing against his. He dips his head, kissing your jaw, and he’s suddenly surrounded by you. Arms around his neck, warm and soft as your fingers thread in his hair, both of you moan at the feeling of him sliding into you. It’s white hot and nearly painful, how even with the way you’re dripping down your thighs, it still takes you a second to take him all the way. You wriggle your hips, trying to settle yourself and Frank nips at your neck, slowing your pace just slightly. He can hear you sigh, but you listen. You always fucking do.

“Shit— so fucking good. You can take it.” He hums and runs his hands over your skin. You lean into the touch, and when you sigh again he sinks your hips lower, a short punch of your name bursting from his chest when you slam yourself down. “Fuck. There you go.”

He’s a wreck underneath you, and your hands slither away from his hair to his face when you pull him up to kiss you. As much as he loves the feeling of your hips grinding down ever so slightly right now, it’s this part he loves the most. The slow intimacy of it— how he knows he can stay right here for the rest of the day and nothing will change. He can feel how much you love it, how much care you handle him with, and it cracks something old and hard in his gut.

You shudder as he lifts his hips, keeping your mouths together and kissing hungrily. He’d think you’d both been starved for a year the way you two act, but he’d admit it to anyone that asked that he was gone for you. He knows it well and true, in his chest and in the way you bounce in his lap, moaning into his mouth like he’s breathing air into your burning lungs.

“Fuck— fuck, I love you. I fucking… Jesus Christ, you’re so good. I love you.” He can’t shut himself up, and your breath gets faster. He knows you love it when he talks. “C’mon, baby. Let me see you— wanna feel you. I know you want to.”

“Slow… Frank, you’re gonna hurt yourself—“ You suck in a breath and squeeze your eyes shut. His hands stay tight on your hips, and he feels the pleasure buzz under his palms, your skin nearly alight with it on top of him. “Oh my god, don’t stop.”

He wraps his forearm around you and fucks you harder, any pain and injury burnt out by how tight you are around him, and how perfect you fit him. He’s close, so close that he’s hardly able to kiss you now. You both collide in a mess of tongues and sighs, and when he hears you croak out his name into his mouth, he knows you’re cumming for him.

He can’t hold himself back, chasing you into that high with blinding abandon. It hits him like a freight train, bowing him over you like he’s taken a hit, but it feels so good he can’t register that he isn’t breathing like this. He keeps kissing you until he’s sure he’s going to pass out, and only stops when you pull away, eyes darting to the highway where headlights slowly flicker on the horizon.

“Shit.” You say breathless, and you laugh. He can feel it, the sound shuddering through him from where he was still deep inside you, and your giggles soon turned to something less innocent when you heard Frank groan into your chest. “C’mon. Someone’ll see us.”

“Don’t move yet.” He puts his hands on your waist, fanning them out to reach as much of you as possible.

“Mhmm.” It’s like your body gives out at his request, slumping forward and moulding into him like you were made to fit this way. This was what he was talking about. The way you fit together— something that should be out of the question for him fits so right. “I love you, too.”

“Mhmm.” He copies and feels you smile against his skin. His hands trail up your spine, tracing the line of bones lightly to leave goosebumps in his wake. “What time is it?”

“Who gives a fuck?” You mumble, the words half muffled into his neck.

“I want you to see the house in the light, but you wanna go at it blind, be my guest.” It takes you a second, a scoff coming out of you before you sit up abruptly, making him groan again.

“House? What house? Another safe house.” Frank couldn’t keep a secret to save his life when it came to you.

“It’s a house. Twenty minute drive from here.”

“But New Yorks not—“

“I know. Good thing we got cars, yeah?” Your eyebrows are crossed together, and Franks thumb slips over the small scar he left on your face. The movement shifts your gaze to something softer, and he feels the brush of your eyelashes on his finger as you blink up at him.

“You did it on purpose. It’s right in the middle.” You say softly. “Jesus, Frank. You didn’t have to… I mean you—“

“Take a breath. I didn’t buy it. Was a gift from the US Goverment. One thing those guys are good for is their money. I just picked the spot.” He could nearly hear the rave of your heart, and you crushed yourself into him, words hushed and mumbled into his ear, but they melt him to the core all the same.

He’ll never get over hearing you say things like this to him. That you’re grateful for him, that he’s doing a good thing. It’s like nothing he did before you was ever good enough. There was always the next job, always the next group to track, but nothing would be enough. There wasn’t a light at the end of the tunnel for him. But here you were, telling him that he was the reason you were gonna be alright, and if he squints he can see it. The flicker of something hopeful, and if he holds onto you as tight as he can, he might just live to see it light him on fire.

“Did you say… you said twenty minutes from here. Why didn’t we just wait until—“

“Would’ve ruined the surprise.” You laugh again, and the feeling has him gripping you tighter. He leans closer to whisper in your ear, his voice low. “And I wanted to fuck you here and now. Don’t want there to be a single fuckin’ surface where I ain’t had you.”

“Better get driving then, Castle. Sounds like you got a job to do.” The glint in your eye nearly makes him drag you outside and bend you over the hood, but the kiss you give him after is sickeningly sweet, so much so that he lets you slide off him and back into the passenger seat without so much as a nip of his teeth. “Tha–”

“Wait. Wait til you see it.” Frank said, and something about the way he looked at you had you nodding simply, and watching the trees race by as he sped you home.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You were asleep on the balcony again, and Frank moved as slow as he could to let you stay that way.

In the two weeks you’d been here, he could count on one hand how many times you’d actually slept in the bed. There were no neighbours for miles, nothing interrupting the stretch of sky all the way to the hills. Even Frank had to admit it was a killer view.

He came inside, pouring himself a drink, and a strange pit in his stomach settled after the burning liquid soothed his throat. He can’t seem to kick that feeling when you’re asleep. When you were awake, next to him, there wasn’t anything else he could think about. But alone, walking around a house he owned, a life he might try and live staring him in the face, he felt guilty. There were parts of him he wouldn’t ever get back, but this wasn’t something he thought he’d ever have. Peace and quiet, time to himself. A woman he loved within eyesight, buried under blankets cause she was too stubborn to come inside when it got freezing. He couldn’t figure out why now, of all times, was the time to be thinking of Maria. The weight of the ring around his neck was like an anchor. He knew it was stuck on the bottom of the ocean, but he couldn’t find it in himself to let go. He would sit there, hand cut up and bleeding, holding on for dear fucking life if no one moved him, waiting until he drowned.

Your footsteps were soft, in a way that he knows you can’t help. You tread through the open double doors, and Frank would roll his eyes at the way he could hear your teeth chattering if he wasn’t so distracted.

“You should of woke me.” You say, voice muffled from the mess your head was buried under. He took a step toward you, pushing it back so he could see your eyes.

“It’s late.”

“Couldn’t tell.” He can hear the smirk in your voice.

“You finally frozen to death, smart-ass?” You grumble something in reply, and he catches a few curse words before you look at him again. It’s nearly scary, the way you can read him with one sweep of your eyes. You clock his tone, the way he isn’t leaning into you with his full weight, and squint your eyes.

“What is it?” Frank sucks in a long breath, and kisses you.

He’s a complete idiot. That’s what it is. He can feel the buzzing pulse you wake in him, every movement of your lips on his rooting you deeper in his soul, chipping off ice until theres only warmth. How’s he supposed to tell you, after you’ve just kissed him like that, that he was thinking about his–

“You can talk to me about her, Frank.” You say with your head against his. Not it, her. Before he can ask, you smile a little. Even just a hint of that smile and he’s forgetting how to breathe. “You play with the ring when you’re nervous. It’s actually a bit of a tell.”

“Yeah?” He manages, hands trying to search their way through the blankets for you.

“Yeah. You have a lot of tells. For someone in your line of work, it’s actually a bit worrying.”

“You got me all figured out.” He says and means it, but you just roll your eyes.

“And you lean to the left when you think you can’t make a shot. You think it helps your angle.”

“Who woulda thought you were so observant.”

“You know, I actually did watch you when you were teaching me how to shoot.” Frank smiles, your skin finally under his palms. His hands splay on your back, and you lean closer.

“You were trying to fuck me the whole time. Don’t blame me for being surprised.” You try to whack him but your arms are pinned under the layers. Your laughter carries through him, skittering into his chest until he can’t help but laugh too.

“You came onto me.” He laughs harder. “It was very unprofessional. I was there to learn.”

“Damn fucking right I did.” His voice is low, and you shuffle around under his hold until your hands snake up behind his neck. His hair is too long, but he hasn’t cut it just yet. He tells himself that he hasn’t had time, but truthfully he likes the way it feels when you sift your fingers through the ends of it. Like now.

“You can tell me.” You say again, softer. He’s softer too– more malleable now you were here.

“I can’t help it.” He looks over your shoulder, and you follow his gaze to where the sun is now just starting to rise. “She woulda… woulda liked it here. The kids, too.”

“You think so?” He nods, still staring into the orange sky.

“Probably would of had a lot to say about the inside, though.” You wrap around him tighter, head on his chest. “She was so good with those things. She loved when we painted our house. She had all these colors painted next to each other on the wall. All these different kinds of green. Everyone kept sayin’ it all looked the same but she... she could tell the difference. I could see what she meant when she put the couch next to it and shit, you know? She was real good with that stuff.”

“We could use her help around here. This place is sort of… ugly, on the inside.” He laughed again, his throat feeling tighter as he looked around. There was those same colour swatches, but none of them were coordinated like he was remembering. Pinks, blues, oranges and grays were all mixed together in big, sweeping strikes along the wall, stopping right above where your arm would be able to reach. “What would she have gone with?”

He looks down at you, your face washed in the light of the sunrise.

“The light orange. It looks good with the brown.” He nods over to the couch, an old leather one you’d made him pick up off the side of the road.

“We’ll do that one, then.” You tuck yourself under his chin, sighing.

“I think about ‘em everyday. What the kids would have looked like now. What they’d be doing. How Maria and I would of… raised ‘em. I was away all the time, but I just-”

“I think you would have been just fine.” You say into his chest, and Frank takes a shuddering breath.

“Why’s that?“

“Cause she was in love with you.” His chest tightens, and the grip he’s got on your waist gets a little tighter. “I’m… I’ll never be able to fix…that. It’ll always be with you, and nothing will change what happened, but I want you to know that they will always have a place here. You don’t have to apologize for talking about them– the kids, or Maria. I will never, ever not listen, and it will never be something I don’t want to hear. If they’re always with you, they’ll be with me, too.”

Frank takes two steps forward, and your feet pick up just in time to catch yourself before he throws you back on the couch. He’s never been good with words for things like this. He doesn’t think he should try to shove it all in a sentence, either. Not when theres so much he wants to say, but even more he wants to do.

You lay back, and he moves slowly. He wants you to know every move, every brush of his hand and his mouth is by design. He wants to know every square inch of you inside and out like you know him. He wants his hands to pull the strings, letting you hear all the things his mouth could never possibly form.

“Perfect.” Frank sighs against your mouth, over and over again. It was. You were. Are. The pit in his stomach disappears, pushed out and engulfed by the flames in his chest. There was no room for anything, not a single other feeling or word could possibly fit the way you two fit together. Your fingers tug at his shirt, and he takes it over his head. Your hands run and smooth gentle lines over his chest, over the healing wound on his side. It's jagged and wonky, and it nearly spelt your name. Frank thinks it’s the first time he’s looked down at himself and not hated to see the scars.

He unravels you like a gift to himself, savouring every moment even when you try to shrug off the blanket. You hadn’t dressed since last night, and Frank liked it even more this way. You sighed his name, and Frank shuddered, sealing his mouth over yours again. When his eyes opened for a split second, he could see your face, washed in orange light, and your hair swept to the side. He shut his eyes and kissed you again, the image seared into his mind forever.

Frank had faced a lot of bad things in his life. He had been shot, stabbed, pulled apart and put back together more times than he could remember. He thought he’d seen it all, felt it all before, but there was nothing like this. Nothing made him as weak as your fingers in his hair, and nothing made him as strong as the way you moaned his name. Nothing felt as good as sliding inside you, and nothing felt as empty as when you were gone. It made him lightheaded and brought him to the brink of consciousness, but he knew that this was right.

It could of been minutes or hours that had passed when he let himself go, but no amount of time with you under him would stop him from wanting more. The sun was up now, and Frank had you tucked to his side on the small space of the couch, legs tangled together in the blankets and each other. He felt you shiver against him, and the blankets wrapped around you had come loose. He bent to fix them, and when he moved you did it again.

He looked down, seeing the cold line of metal pressed against your bare back. The ring at the end was hanging over your ribs, and when Frank touched it, it was freezing. Holding it in his palm, it didn’t feel as heavy as it used to, and when he read the engraving on the back, he still felt cold.

Looking down at you, how you rolled over and sought him out even with your eyes closed, he leaned down to kiss the scar on your forehead. Then, like it was the simplest thing in the world, he slipped the necklace off over his head, and placed it in a neat circle on the coffee table next to his head.

They would always have a place here. But it wasn’t them who gave him warmth anymore.

When he tucked himself back under the covers, he knew it was you. It was always you.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

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okay theres going to be an epilogue at some point, but it will probably be small and have very little plot, so this is the end of the main story. so, heres a little rant for you. if you read it, thank you, and if you dont, thank you anyways. knowing anyone is reading my words is a gift enough.

i think i have been writing this series for like 5/6 months ish?? thats fucking wild. i dont have an exact word count, but all i know is its fucking long. i cannot believe i wrote this much about a fictional character, but damn. that is a lot.

basically all i want to say here is thank you. to anyone who has read, interacted, or will read in the future, thank you from the bottom of my heart. it might be a lil dramatic but having people read stuff i write, let alone actually enjoy it makes me so incredibly happy. starting to write on here, and for frank especially, is probably one of the best decisions ive ever made. this series was a struggle to finish for so many reasons, mainly my incredible lack of planning and overall dumb writing schedule, but i have met so many incredible people along the way, and i am just so grateful to have a lil space to share my work.

frank castle will probably always own a giant spot in my heart, so thank you for letting me share my version of him. and letting me add as much smut as i want to this with no complaints bc i fuckin needed it okay!!!!!! i love you all. rant over. series over. damn!

p.s. i am never not going to write frank. dont worry. i already have an idea for my next series lmao!!!!!!!! luv ya!

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #the punisher #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x you #marvel tv #the punisher x reader #the punisher x you #marvel #the punisher x y/n

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grimmcheems · 2 months

Text

Rest In Peace Toriyama 🕊️💫🐉

DragonBall has always had a place in my heart for the way it was ever-present in my childhood. I grew up loathing weekend mornings because my brother would always drag me out of bed to watch it with him. I suppose that’s why it’s extra special for me, it was a simpler time when me and my brother could just sit and watch what came next in the current arc. The days always felt warmer then, but now I’m grown.

I’m glad Toriyama made this series and ignited something in me, though his passing was harsh and unimaginable for most of us, I hope he has found peace in knowing how many people he’s inspired to be better, and the many that he will continue to inspire. I wish his family healing and condolences for their sudden loss.

.^An extra illustrating what those Saturday mornings felt like. Dragon Soul was my alarm clock for the better part of my childhood. (It’s also my fav op)

I remember we even had a vhs tape of two specific episodes in which the bunny boss ended up on the moon. I always had bulma’s personality embedded into my head whenever I thought of her in that bunny suit.

I never appreciated that time then as much as I do now. Maybe it’s Goku’s loving nature and fatherly care that left an imprint on me and kept me from forgetting him, or maybe it was the way my brother was obsessed with the series, either way he was somehow always in the back burner of my mind. I even remember having to play with my brother when he got Budokai Tenkaichi 3 for his PlayStation. He even bugged me to wake up when Super came out (though we had already graduated and i would be resting on my days off from work, he was also only visiting for the month) and tried to get me to watch it with him, but Super never really had the same appeal to me as the og series.

Perhaps the connection it has to my brother is what draws me to it time and time again, I feel as though I can’t understand him as well anymore after we’ve graduated and he’s moved on with his life and out of the house. I never thought this random shounen series my brother forced me to watch every Saturday morning of our childhood would have the effect it has on me now. It was last year that I decided to rewatch the entire series since I figured I didn’t actually know what was ever going on, I was just always intrigued by the action and the characters. Surprisingly my child brain remembered the arcs pretty well and I could just have it playing the background and know what was going on for the most part.

Did I mention that my brother also collected the dvd series? Lmao. I was so hype when the Broly Movie came out and when we watched it it felt like I regained that connection to my brother momentarily.

It also inspired me to draw when I was in elementary school, though I thought of it as something I could show off rather than take it seriously like I do now. I never thought I’d draw again after middle school until I got to high school and got back into it. It wasn’t until last year that I first drew something dragon ball related since elementary school, and it felt so surreal to look at how far I’ve come in my art journey.

It was never intentional for me to start drawing dragonball, it was just stuck in the back of my head and it wouldn’t leave me alone until I brought my ideas to life by sketching them out. I literally have two drafts DB related as I’m typing this.😅 oddly enough there’s many things I think about when I think about dragon ball, but they are too many to list. There’s just so much I love about it and so many characters I love. The thoughts never leave me alone when I come up with an idea or headcanon for them and it’s actually so hard for me to try and forget them that I always give in and do something with the idea. It will always be a part of me.

I wasn’t planning on making a painting of Goku ever, yet here I am. I don’t really paint either, which makes the time it took me to make this that much more surprising. I wanted to portray an ease in his expression, something peaceful. I hope it comes across that way, he somehow looks like he’s sleeping and it’s funny because I don’t think I’ve ever really seen Goku relax like this at any point.

#illustration #anime #digital art #drawing #sketch #painting #digital painting #dragon ball goku #goku #son goku #dragon ball #dragon ball art #akira toriyama #fly high #rest in peace #art #dragon ball z #dragon ball z kai #kakarot

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cherievol6 · 2 years

Text

not waiting around - pt I

PART II

heyyyy so i just found this in my drafts from a while ago and stuck on an ending - i hope you like it! i was kind of in a bad mood so writing an angsty piece was a good vessel for me lmao. enjoy :)

harry can’t make up his mind and you won’t be second best

warnings: swearing, harry being arrogant, angsty angstiness

word count: around 2.5k

“How are you not currently ripping his bollocks off?”

“I agree, I’d be knocking his fucking block off right now.”

You mostly tuned out of the incessant ranting of your friends that you didn’t wish to partake in, it’s becoming white noise at this point.

“Babe, aren’t you gonna say something?” Your sister clicks obnoxiously in your face, snapping you out of the fixation your eyes had on the black scrunchie on your bedside table. It sat exactly in the place it was left by the user merely a week ago.

“Need to take my hair down…know how much you love pulling it.” He smirks, gently removing the black scrunchie from his seemingly untameable hair. You swat his arm at the crude remark, covering your face with your hands as he clambers to you on the bed, prying your defensive position down to meet your eyes.

“You’re awful.” You mumble jokingly, his smile immediately erasing any previous embarrassment.

“Kidding…kind of.” He mumbles and you giggle at him, confirming his remark by sliding your hands through his curls, sighing as though they were meant to be there. His eyes closed as he revelled in the feeling, lurching forward to kiss you feverishly.

The scrunchie in his fingers was blindly placed on the table beside your bed, him laughing as his arm flailed around to make sure he didn’t miss and drop it down the side of your bed – he knew you’d kill him.

“Can I borrow it again later for our face masks?” His voice is muffled now as he buries his head in your neck, your heart stutters slightly as you try and repress the feelings crawling up your throat and begging to be voiced.

“Of course, it’s yours now.”

The face masks were rain checked later that night. Maybe even crossed out completely, there was no way you two would ever be that intimate again.

“You literally poured your heart out to this man for him to fuck off and ghost your text messages. He needs to be put in his place.” You cringe heavily at her summation of your embarrassing drunken confessions you’d made the night Harry was at your house. You and Harry agreed to keep things casual, only ever meeting as and when you both needed some kind of distraction. It worked for you both, smooth sailing for the first couple of months. The lines began to blur soon enough, and you’d fallen into the deep end with him.

“Friends with benefits almost never ends well.” Your best friend says in a motherly voice, though you’re glad it’s not actually your mother…she’d be broadcasting your business all over Facebook the minute she heard the news. Something back handed about not being ‘good enough’ for the nation’s heartthrob.

You know your friend is right, friends with benefits always ending up with someone getting hurt. You knew first hand at this point, your unrequited feelings being the sole reason for the ending to your agreement with Harry. You blame the wine, the substance making you talk for England. You’re not quite sure you’ve ever been so drunk around him before, then to top it off, you accidentally tell him that you “wish he wanted you for more than just a shag in the sheets”. His reaction, from what you can remember, was a curt yet unamused laugh, and a swift exit with a very icy demeanour which you could still feel the stab from, even stone-cold sober.

There had been a few words exchanged in between the time of your confession and his dramatic exit, them holding nothing but salty air and what you felt like was disgust. The only words you distinctly remember were “this was never a good idea”, and they’d been playing on a loop in your head for days.

To add insult to injury, the same non-committal man had been seen at a party with none other than his top-model ex just last night, embracing how you’d done to him for the past four months. Except you feel as though his embrace with her held more weight than the ones you’d shared, your memory tainted of him – your mind told you now that every intimate thing with him was done regrettably on his end.

His defensive reaction threw you for six after your domesticated interactions in private, you feeling as though his comfort around you and willingness to act couple-y meant he may harbour similar sentiments to you. You were deathly wrong.

“He literally sacked you off last week and now he’s back with his ex? What on earth is that all about?” Your sister screeches, her and your best friend seemingly more infuriated than you are.

“I get it, okay? I must have such a fucking liability to him that he, in your words, ‘sacked me off’.” You snap back, silencing them both as you try to gather your thoughts about this. The picture of him and his ex-fling idles on your phone which lies haphazardly on the bed beside you, it still open from your first viewing of it.

“Listen, I need you both to leave, this is something I need to work out in my head, first… before I start chopping anyone’s balls off…please can I just have a day or two to sort myself out?” It comes out as a plea, the two women in front of you immediately feeling pity for you, seeing that it has in fact torn you up and the only way you could fix it was being alone. They nod and embrace you tightly, and you have to will away the tears when they’re rubbing your back and saying soothing things before exiting out your door with a chorus of goodbye’s.

You glance back at the scrunchie again as the waterworks set off, feeling absolutely pathetic being upset over someone who made it clear to you from the start that he didn’t want a relationship. Part of you feels now that he was never against a relationship, he just didn’t seek that in you. You knew that some kind of conversation with Harry was overdue, the way you left things hanging the week prior unacceptable to both of you, regardless of any embarrassment or resentment. Apologies were owed and air needed to be cleared.

You grab the dreaded scrunchie from your desk and tie your hair up in a furious manner, all of your actions being exaggerated due to the massive amounts of rage and adrenaline coursing through your body at this moment, you felt as though you couldn’t decide between crying or shouting.

It continued as you got dressed. Crying as you pulled up your jeans, shouting profanities as you struggle to pull on your hoodie, crying as you found one of his stupid fucking rings under your bed…one he’d lost after coming over about a month ago, shouting at your reflection for being such a hopeless romantic with the wrong men. Your neighbours must’ve thought some odd things as you stormed out of the house, chucking a couple of hoodies in the passenger seat of your car.

The only barrier you face now is the short walk from your car to the front door of his luxurious home. You aren’t sure who’s going to be there, you aren’t sure if he’s going to kick you out. You just need the closure, so you can move on. The easiest way for you to get past something was to eject it from your life, so here you are, idling in your car outside the house of the man you think you might be falling in love with – ready to close that chapter of your life. You both wanted different things.

You’re about to leave your car which is tucked neatly round the side of his house, the place he’d advised you to use in the past, when you hear his front door swing open in the distance.

“I’ll see you later, H. Don’t stress it too much, we’ve got the PR team on damage control.”

You recognise the male voice as Harry’s manager, possibly there to discuss Harry’s documentation of his night out last night which was plastered on every sight you can think of. Harry doesn’t offer much of a response, a few mumblings leaving his chest which you can’t make out from your clandestine spot. Jeff’s car exits the security gates of Harry’s home and speeds down the road, though you don’t hear Harry’s front door close. You round the corner from where your car is parked and see him still stood there, looking like death warmed up. He already knows you’re here by the looks of it, his gaze following your small frame shrouded in his clothing as he unlocks his gate without hesitation. The air around the pair of you feels thick and unwanted, like neither of you want to gain any more closeness than the security of the gate which separated you both. He doesn’t spare you a look as you reach the foyer, not bothering to take off your shoes as you know your stay won’t be long…and he doesn’t deserve your politeness at this moment.

As you enter his barren house, you can almost see the two of you materialised in every corner, feeling reminiscent of something still so fresh.

“Chuck ‘em on the sofa, please.” His voice is gruff and tired, and you comply, tossing his clothes to his royal blue furniture. You can’t help but cringe as they fall strewn, and the clean freak in you ends up trying to quickly re-fold the messy items.

“Hey, you don’t have to—” he cuts off when you scoff, finishing the folding and digging your hand in the pocket of your jeans.

“I found your teddy bear ring,” your tone is nonchalant and dull, the ring suspended in the air between you, “thought you’d want it back.”

Harry’s hand reaches out for you to drop in into his palm, but you beat him to the punch by dropping it on to the coffee table, not wanting to engage in any physical contact out of fear you might cave. You also pettily wanted him to feel slightly guilty.

“Listen, I get why you’re angry, but can’t we be mature about this?” He says, and you can’t believe he’s trying to take the high road when he’d stormed out like you were both on a reality TV show.

“That’s rich coming from you, storming out of my house like a teenager and then not answering my texts. I’m looking at you right now and all I see is arrogance, Harry.” Even you’re surprised by your clipped tone, and his face contorts in irritation, his hand rifling through his long messy hair. You subconsciously reach out to adjust your scrunchie at the same time.

“I had some shit to think about. You unloaded all those fucking things on me that night and I had to remove myself before I said something hurtful.” You’re not sure why this makes you squirm slightly, the thought that he had more ammo that he was suppressing.

“I’m sorry that I’m such a fucking liability, Harry. I was plastered, for God’s sake! I wasn’t planning on telling you all of that shit, hell, I wasn’t planning to keep on seeing you for much long after because of it all.” You can feel yourself getting upset again but you refuse to cry in front of him. It was the truth, you knew it had to come to an end now you’d caught feelings, but you didn’t think it would crash and burn like this.

He doesn’t seem to have a rebuttal, choosing to just stare at the ring on the coffee table in silence, his thoughts so loud you could almost hear them.

“Don’t try and make me out like I’m doing something wrong by having feelings for you.” You punctuate your sentence with arms folding across your chest, waiting for him to finally spit something out. He sighs, stepping closer cautiously.

“Those pictures, they aren’t at all what it looks like. She was really fucking drunk, I was just taking her home.” He pleads, gesturing with his hands to express his point.

“Harry that’s not my issue here. My issue is that you’re somehow unable to have an adult conversation about emotional relationships when it makes you uncomfortable. I get it, okay! The thought of me having feelings for you is apparently so unbearable—"

“I never said that.” He clips. You pinch the bridge of your nose.

“I didn’t need you to Harry. I didn’t come here to argue either, I just came to drop off your stuff and cut this final tie off.” Your eyes begin to sting slightly but you push the emotion back deep into the depths of your subconscious, never to be confronted or freed again.

“Why does it have to be like this?” He looks between your eyes rapidly, brows furrowed and face displaying that of frustration. You try to ignore the way he adjusts his hair falling in a part across his head, something you used to love doing yourself.

“Because as much as you hate to admit it, you can’t bear the thought of being committed to someone like me.” You huff, bottom lip trembling. Harry rubs in between his eyebrows.

“Don’t tell me how I feel, for God’s sakes.” His voice travels into the now stagnant air and you don’t feel as though you have much more to say. The only thing that goes through your head at this moment in time is the notion of ‘if he wanted to, he will’. Men like harry don’t usually beat around the bush with their feelings, and it was laid right in front of your eyes – Harry was using you as a rebound for his ex, and he was still in love with her. Simple as. And with that thought in mind, you adjust the cuffs of your shirt and sniff the stuffiness from your nose from the impending tears.

“Whatever it is you’re feeling, Harry - I’m not waiting around to hear it.” You say, eyes sharp and locked on his to solidify your point. His eyes are vacant looking back at you, and follow your figure as you turn to leave his house, leave him behind.

“I’m fucking in love with you, you know that?” He yells as you’re halfway through the threshold of the door. You wish that this was like a film or something, that you’d stop in your tracks and turn back to him, running into his arms and making up in the beat of a heart. But this was real-life, real-life feelings and real hurt that you were feeling. You turn around, tears falling freely now.

“No you’re fucking not.” You whisper. His hand slips to your cheek and he has a pained look on his face and you’re shaking your head with your eyes screwed shut. He tries to convince you with small murmurs of your name.

“But you still love her, don’t you?” Your vision is bleary as you finally try to look at him. Even through the fogged vision you see the chagrin on his face as he tells you after a pause that he doesn’t know. With that, you slip away from his hold and watch your breath in the cold air, leaving his house for the last time with a small kiss on his cheek.

He doesn’t follow you this time.

PART II IS NOW UP!

#harry styles fanfiction #Harry Styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles angst #harry styles story #harry styles smut #harry styles boyfriend #boyfriend!harry #boyfriendrry #harry styles husband #husbandrry #husband!harry #angst

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judewillem · 9 months

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i found a notes app draft written up of all my thoughts abt being on-stage for a little life and thought it was worth sharing here:

- food on the stage smelled SO good

- dettol, on the other hand. did not. and there was so much of it before the start of act two.

- i kept getting distracted by the lone black olive on the stage that wasn’t cleaned up after jb’s outburst

- i couldn’t help but think “his ass is NOT reading” every time willem sat down to read a manuscript

- that being said, willem’s arm obstructed my view of what jude did to himself at the end of act one and if you’ve seen the show, you’ll know this was a merciful view obstruction

- had to stop myself from laughing during the scene where willem kept hitting the sofa cushion bc every time he hit it, our seats in the front row kept vibrating

- THAT scene between jude and caleb was even worse on-stage because all the action happened very close to the back of the stage and i was just sitting there like ☹️

- probably one of the worst things about being onstage was being aware that the whole audience can see ur face which made certain scenes (caleb, dr traylor, everything after willem’s death) really difficult because i could not control my facial expressions. sat there looking either like a deer in headlights (literally at one stage) or like i’m abt to burst into tears

- also speaking of the ending, it was even more difficult bc the lighting onstage was VERY revealing and i was so aware the audience could see me

- you can really see the little subtleties of their performances- jude and harold were particular standouts but they were all amazing

- one little moment i loved was seeing malcolm mouth “be careful” when a group of them were carrying jude over to the hospital bed at the end of act one (although it could’ve been out of character to make sure none of them dropped their costar lmao)

- seeing those little moments was esp fun before the play started and they're just milling around and chatting (one moment i loved was when jude changed the music from contemporary to classical, willem noticed and changed it back and teased him abt it)

#a little life #its been like two weeks since i saw it but i wrote up all of this when i got back to my hotel room that night #anyways 10/10 experience i would go back and get traumatised again if it was running for longer #honestly the only real negative was that you aren't able to see jb's paintings #like there are a few parts that the cast is facing away from you but for the most part you don't miss that much #txt

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yukinarinn · 1 year

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Hi! I was just wondering if you could do relationship headcanons (SFW and NSFW if youre okay with that) for Makoto Naegi with his childhood friend! Short! Fem s/o! Who had chronic pain and who uses a cane? (If you're okay with mentions of self harm scars, would that be okay to include?) Thank you!

I wonder if something similar happened to you if you requested it.. if so, I’m so sorry and I hope everything’s okay now! I’m uh not good at making headcanons and guess what lol, this is my first time so I really hope you’ll enjoy it. please tell me if you want me to change anything! <3

I actually had this in my drafts but I lost motivation to write something on here, I also thought that I’ll leave this blog and in general tumblr. But here we are! please feel free to request anything you want!

cw: mentions of cane/s3lf h3rm scars, a 24/7 worried Makoto lol, childhood friend, fluff, nsfw, mentions of handcuffs, (slight) praise

SFW

Makoto is so worried about you, tbh

like, since you’re his childhood friend and btw, his girlfriend, he took good care of you since then!

he even asked you if he can help you walking, he asked this too many times.

and you always refuse it and told him that it’s fine since you use the cane

Makoto seems like he gets attached to people very easily, he literally fell hard for you just because he takes care of you!

he spends so much time with you though, giving you food and everything you need. He’s so scared in even leaving you for a second.

I’m serious, if it’s happening him leaving you for some minutes to make food or I don’t know.. take a shower, and he’s hearing something weird coming from your room, he’ll be right there

“Y-YN??! Are you okay sweetie? I’ll go call the-“

“Makoto, I’m fine. I just changed my shirt”

LMAO

Gives you hugs and a lot of affection

When it comes to your scars.. he gets freaked out and doesn’t know what to do

Especially when he cuddles with you and accidentally touches them

“YN!! I-I’m so sorry darling! did it hurt? does it bleed already?! I’ll go grab the banda-“

And you shut him up by kissing him passionately

Don’t worry, he’s not calm even if you’re sleeping. You need to reassure him that everything is fine with you for him to actually fall asleep

NSFW

I mean.. Makoto is 100% into vanilla sex, that’s it

Just because he doesn’t want to hurt you, of course

He can be a little kinky, like, tying you with those flully pink handcuffs he owns for special ocassions

He tries to not touch your scars tho.. that are already healed..

Makoto’s a switch!! but usually he takes the control, seeing you this vulnerable in his bed makes him go insane

But not anymore when he hears you moaning, thinking it’s because of your chronic pain

“Is everything okay? I can remove the handcuffs fro-“

Since you can’t talk cuz of how good he’s doing u, you just force him to kiss you, enough for him to understand that the moan was coming from the pleasure he gives to you

Pretty good at dirty talk if you ask me, he praises the fuck outta you when the pleasure hits him

“F-Fuck, you’re so tight, baby. I-I’m gonna cum!”

Aand this turns you on, it would turn you on even more if he degraded you

But Makoto can’t degrade his girlfriend even if she wants to, he thinks he’ll hurt you

Plus he’s soft and you can’t tell me otherwise

Makoto is perfect at aftercare! he’ll give you what you need and cuddle with you after

He’s going to only fall asleep when you already fell asleep <3

#danganronpa x reader #makoto naegi #sfw #danganronpa smut #x reader smut #naegi x reader #danganronpa makoto #fem reader #trigger happy havoc #danganronpa #dr1 trigger happy havoc #dr1 thh #thh #naegimakoto

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of-a-chaotic-mind · 2 years

Text

JJ Maybank Headcanons:

A/N: I know I said I was gonna write more but I’ve barely had time or energy to even clean my house lately soooo. Anyway, I’m literally writing these on my lunch break. I may write some for the other pogues too idk yet it depends on how many I can come up with for them. I just have a good bit for JJ bc I think about him a lot lmao. Without further ado.

P.S. This has been sitting in my drafts for like a week awaiting the moment that I decide I'm happy with it lol. So here it is finally.

Random Headcanons:

He sleeps in starfish pose. Like you cannot tell me that this dude can’t or won’t take up an entire bed by himself.

We all know his motto, “Stupid things have good outcomes all the time,” but this dude's number one signature catchphrase has to be “Full Send!” followed closely by “YOLO Bitches!”

This may just be biased bc of Uncharted and the Royal Merchant ordeal but I can definitely see JJ pretending to be a pirate who’s on a massive treasure-hunting expedition when he was a little kid.

JJ’s hidden talent? Rapping. His ADHD and quick mind help him come up with lyrics quickly and even if they don’t always make sense to others they make sense to him 90% of the time.

JJ is either a fighting drunk or a goofy drunk. It’s either “let’s throw some hands” or “I’ma dance on that table brb” there is no in-between.

As for when he’s high, I think JJ is one of those people that just comes up with absolute nonsense that kinda makes sense. He has really deep thoughts about random shit and barely shuts up.

He does a lil dancey dance. I can see him just kinda standing in line, standing amongst the Pogues or they're all sitting around doing nothing and he gets bored so he dances along to whatever song is playing in his head. It often distracts the Pogues and cracks them up.

JJ is a speed demon no ifs ands or buts about it. This makes him a pro at playing spot the cop because while he enjoys the rush, he does not enjoy the idea of getting a ticket.

Somehow, Kie once convinced him to let her put his hair in tiny pigtails. He may or may not have been drunk.

You know that cute little thing where one person sticks out their hand and another rests their chin in it? So, as long as it's someone he trusts i.e. the Pogues or a significant other, they can stick their hand out and catch his attention and he will immediately put his chin in it even if he has to hurdle over tables in his mad dash from across the room.

I saw someone headcanon, I’m sorry but I can’t remember who, that JJ can play drums. I 100% agree. I can see him just banging around on them to let out some frustration one day and Kie convinced him to actually learn how to play them. Let me tell you, it was not easy at all bc JJ’s attention span didn’t wanna hold out for it but eventually he got the hang of it.

Unfortunately, at the insistence of the Pogues, JJ is no longer allowed to light fireworks anymore after having almost caught not only the dock but also The Chateau on fire one Fourth of July.

Dating Him Headcanons:

JJ is always attached to his love in some way, shape, or form. It could just be a simple shoulder-to-shoulder thing or he could be practically backpacked on you with his arms wrapped around your shoulders, his chin resting on your head or in the crook of your neck, and him leaning against your back.

JJ doesn't have a lot of money but what he does have is the desire to shower you with gifts so what does he do? He makes things for you or steals them but that's not the point. Your wrists, hands, and neck are probably always adorned in loads of bracelets, rings, and necklaces that he made for you. They may not look like much to other people but to you, they mean the world and you would never let anything happen to them.

JJ is a huge fan of words of affirmation. Remind him often that you love him and are very proud of him, even sprinkle in a few compliments.

That being said, as you can probably tell from the first headcanon of this section, his favorite form of showing love is physical touch. He loves giving it and receiving it.

JJ loves to make you laugh. He'll pull out the cheesiest pick-up lines and corniest dad jokes if it means he gets even a giggle out of you.

So, like I said previously, JJ takes up the entire bed. I also feel like you'll have to fight him for the blankets. You both may start the night out cuddled up all cute and shit but by the time you both wake up, he's spread out as much as possible leaving you to either tuck into his side or flat out lay on top of him.

JJ never says no if you ask for a piggyback ride. Sometimes if he thinks you’re getting tired he’ll just stop in front of you and squat down motioning for you to hop on.

I think a lot of people think that if JJ were ever jealous he would throw hands or super cockily just butt into the conversation and distract you but I personally think he’s a mean-mugging jealous. Like, say you’re having a polite, innocent conversation with some Touron but JJ gets jealous. I think he’d simply walk up behind you and give the person an “if looks could kill” glare. Soon enough the Touron gets the hint and dips. I don’t think JJ would want to fight in front of you if he could help it even if every bone in his body is screaming to throw hands. He doesn’t want to scare you.

Masterlist

More JJ Maybank Imagines

#jj maybank #jj maybank headcanon #jj maybank headcanons #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank imagines #obx #obx headcanon #obx headcanons #outer banks #outer banks headcanon #outer banks headcanons

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the-brainrot-central · 10 months

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Since I’ve been putting out so little fanfic content lately (sorry for that), I felt I owed it to ppl to post something rn, even if it’s rough and unfinished. So here: a rough draft of my Kiraboss smut fic (haven’t written any actual smut yet, this is literally just exposition lmao)

Kiraboss silly draft

(CONTENT WARNINGS: internalized homophobia, prostitution, use of term “queer” with negative connotations)

Yoshikage Kira was never known as a man to take many risks—-everything he did was with caution and precision, leaving no loose ends untied. His private interests necessitated this code of conduct, and in general he didn’t mind being cautious; it was worth it for the sake of his peace of mind. Still, sometimes his typical murderous escapades weren’t enough to fill the void inside him—that insatiable hunger, the kind that always came back to him, begging to be fed. And lately, he found himself…hungry, more often than not; he had a girlfriend right now, who he kept in his fridge, and yet he found himself growing tired of her. Something about his usual routine had just become so…dull. It ceased to excite him anymore. However, his libido remained—he was becoming more agitated, and his usual routines of self care and masturbation weren’t working.

Ultimately, the more he meditated on these recent urges, the more he found that he was craving something…different. Something new, something he had never tried before. He felt somewhat ashamed about it, though there wasn’t much reason to—was there? This was okay. This was normal, by comparison to his usual tastes, perhaps. Nonetheless, he felt…uneasy about it. This was abnormal, even by his standards; it was something he couldn’t tell anyone, something socially unacceptable. In this way, he thought it to be almost as troublesome and bad as his habit of killing.

He found himself desiring the touch of a man now. Sometimes at his work, he’d catch himself zoning out, stealing glances at the hands of his male coworkers—one man in particular had caught his fancy. It was agitating, and the urges were only growing—his mind was ravenous, filled with dirty thoughts, fleeting images of attractive men in bed, undressed, ready to devour him.

Finally, after a few weeks of these urges, with no end in sight, he decided he needed to take matters into his own hands. And so he did what many desperate and sexually confused people do: he hired a prostitute. He was hesitant about the decision, but ultimately his hunger and curiosity won over. And besides, surely this was a safer, more private alternative to hooking up with someone random at work or in a club. This way there’d be no risk of people knowing, and no worry of the other party becoming clingy and needy afterwards.

However, needless to say, he was a nervous wreck about it. He’d taken a shower and put on a casual suit, with a loose button up underneath, and was currently fussing with his hair, trying to get it perfect. Did it look okay? Did it look sloppy or shaggy? Did he look like too much of a tryhard, wearing a suit to this? Probably. As ridiculous as it seemed, he desperately wanted to make the perfect impression on this man, whoever he was—Kira wanted to make it clear upon seeing him that he wasn’t some cheap whore or an easy fuck. He wasn’t the type of man to do this sort of thing, and he wanted to make that clear as day through his appearance.

He scrutinized himself in the mirror some more, growing restless. He turned side to side, observing himself from different angles, making sure nothing was off. Were there any loose threads on his pants? Forgotten tags? Old stains? He was checking and rechecking, making extra sure that he was presentable—-he was being paranoid. He knew that this suit was clean, he knew there were no extra threads hanging loose: he always cut off any loose strings or tags as soon as he bought clothing, and he always washed off stains as soon as he saw them.

He sighed, stroking his tie as he looked himself over. Did he look handsome? Was he presentable? Why was he so anxious about this? It was normal, perfectly normal—people had sex all the time. People hired prostitutes. This was good for him: it would clear his head and satisfy those needs that had been bothering him so much.

However, this was unknown territory for him, personally—at age 33, he was still a virgin. This had never bothered him before, considering he wasn’t really attracted to full women in earnest, only their hands. He had no desire for that sort of contact; he was perfectly capable of fulfilling his own sexual needs. Well…at least until recently.

Was he being too needy? Was this pathetic? Desperate? How degrading, to have sex with someone else, he thought—especially another man, of all things. it was so…vulnerable. So revealing. He didn’t like that thought.

He could always cancel the appointment, he figured: surely they’d understand him getting cold feet. He could call it off, and he wouldn’t have to go and everything would be okay and normal.

Nonetheless, he couldn’t help but feel let down at that thought. He was really looking forward to this all week: canceling it would be such a disappointment. And besides, his attention had been too divided by these needs—he was foggy-headed, and his social facade was suffering because of it. he’d only be jeopardizing himself if he prolonged his unmet needs any further.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and sighing, trying to compose himself. It wasn’t a big deal. He would be fine. And besides, this “Diavoli” man, or whatever his name was, had probably seen much worse than his average mug—being a prostitute surely wasn’t an occupation that allowed one to be too choosy.

Killer queen materialized behind him, its arms wrapped gently around his waist. Sometimes it manifested itself when he was stressed, without him summoning it—probably out of instinct, he assumed. It glared back at him in the mirror curiously, tilting its head.

“I know, Queen, I’m being paranoid…It’s not a big deal. I look good, don’t I?” His stand nodded its head fervently, purring in affirmation.

He reached up and scratched its chin, and it purred some more, closing its eyes as it enjoyed the touch.

“Good boy…such a pretty kitty…”

It meowed in response, leaning its head in closer to Kira’s touch.

“Do I look presentable, Queen? Is my hair alright?”

His stand absently nodded, mostly absorbed in the pleasant feeling of having its chin scratched. Besides it’s practical purposes, Kira enjoyed having his stand as a companion: he liked cats, and Killer Queen made for pleasant company. It was never too loud, too needy, too clingy or demanding, like how people were. It didn’t demand conversation or reciprocation: it just enjoyed Kira’s company, simple as that.

He arrived at the agreed upon location, a love hotel that was quite a ways away from his house. That was preferable; the further away, the better—this way it was unlikely for a neighbor or coworker to stumble upon him entering such a risqué establishment. He was so unusually anxious about this: it was unlike him to be so worked up.

It’ll be fine, Kira…you’ll be fine…It’s not that big of a deal…

Except that it was a big deal—a huge deal for him. He was going to lose his virginity tonight—at least, that was the plan, anyway: he had no clue what to expect. Surely he’d make a fool of himself and chicken out last minute: that’s what he was subconsciously betting on. There was so much pressure; it felt like everything was riding on this. It was too much stress for him, and deep down, he was already starting to plan his escape—he was getting cold feet. Nonetheless…a part of him was still curious—very curious. He wanted to do this, he really did—but did he??? He didn’t know. He wasn’t sure anymore. He was used to being absolutely certain in his decisions; he could trust his own judgement more than anyone else’s. He was always cold, logical, calculating, and he had no reason for self-doubt—until now, at least.

And besides all that, he’d already blown a notorious cut of his paycheck on this—it would just be a waste of that cash if he backed out now. He was a frugal man, and he hated the idea of wasting money, even on small things: perhaps this was part of what gave him the balls to follow through, in the end.

As a matter of fact, he’d paid an extra sum for an “everything-included” package—it basically meant he could ask the prostitute to do whatever he wanted, any kind of sex activity, even down to taking a bath together. He felt somewhat ashamed for paying that premium, knowing that it was exploitative of him; certainly customers took advantage of that premium and used it to do unspeakable things to these people. He wasn’t that kind of man, to take sexual advantage of someone—it wasn’t right. Now even he was doubting his own code of ethics, all because of this decision. However, he honestly wasn’t quite sure what he wanted out of this—he’d never had sex before, let alone with a man, of all things. Because of this, he wanted to give himself more options, more leeway, since he didn’t know exactly what he was in for. Maybe he’d ask for a blowjob? A handjob? Kissing, perhaps?

And then there was the actual “sex” part of it…he felt very anxious about that. Part of him was reluctant, but another part of him wanted it. His urges had given him a few “ideas” he wanted to try, but…he felt ashamed about it—guilty, or something. It was a feeling unlike him: he rarely felt guilt or remorse, giving his habit of murdering women for their hands.

————————————————————

He drove to the specified location, being sure to wear a different suit than usual and to straighten his wavy hair with an iron. He even parted it on the side, which he never did—he couldn’t afford to have people know about this. What would they think? What would they say? He could just imagine the work room gossip—the handsome, aloof, thirty-something bachelor in the office turning out to be a queer…and a whore, at that. Just imagining it was enough to make him sweat. No, he couldn’t have that—his life would be ruined. Maybe he should’ve been more cautious; should've worn makeup, dyed his hair, something like that. His mind was jittery with unease, running through all the things he should have done to be more cautious about this. However, it was no use now—he had no choice but to move forward with this. He wouldn’t chicken out now after all the hassle he’d gone through to get here; no, this was final. He needed this.

And so he exited the car, triple checking that he locked it before feeling at ease. He entered the hotel, and instantly was hit with a wave of embarrassment—the lady at the desk knew what he was doing. She knew he was here to have sex—that’s what these establishments were for, after all. Just that fact alone made him self-conscious. Nonetheless, he steadied his voice as he spoke to her, exuding his usual false aura of suave charisma. He slid her some money, as well as a discreet, black slip of paper with a code number and the agency’s symbol on it. She instantly recognized it and sheepishly slid him the keys to his room, suddenly glancing down and away from him. He sighed, muttered a curt “thanks,” and rushed away to the elevator.

He rose to the fifth floor, made his way to room 512. Anxiously, he stood outside the door, fiddling with his tie and tucking his dress shirt in. Was this a mistake? Did he look stupid? Was he trying too hard? He felt so unusually anxious as he fidgeted and fiddled with his outfit, stalling for time. He wasn’t used to be anxious, for anything—his life was a smooth, controlled machination of events, a scheduled sequence of gears, all turning in synch, not a hair out of place. Even when inconvenoiences or mishaps occurred, they were nothing more than a blip in his existence—a mere annoyance, at best. There was nothing large at stake if traffic was bad or someone spilled coffee on his nice suit—sure, perhaps he’d be scolded a little or have to spend more money, but he wasnt in any danger. His reputation and his peace werent in jeopardy. However, now he wasn’t so sure.

Are you sure about this? You could just turn back now, change your mind—surely the prostitute will be grateful if you did; getting a paycheck, without having to do dirty work. It'd be better for everyone involved. Just go home.

He sighed, turning on his heel to walk away. However, he stopped in his tracks.

But…I already paid for it…I cant undo that. And besides…I’m horny. I want to do it; I really want it. Should I? Is this risky? Is this bad? I’m making a mistake, aren’t I? I shouldn’t have asked for this.

He bit his lip, contemplating.

Still…he seems attractive. What was his name again? Diavali? He seems alright…and he’s very pretty. Especially his hands…

Finally, he mustered up the courage, turning around to knock on the door, three times—that was the instruction given to him upon making this purchase. He swiftly gasped as the door was opened, revealing

#internalized queerphobia #internalized homophobia #just putting those as trigger warnings #in case someone has those tags blacklisted #kiraboss #kiravolo #yoshikage kira #yoshikage kira is a big fat bottom #jojo #fanfics #rough draft #kira x diavolo #fanfic #jojos bizarre adventure #little meow meow #work in progress #ao3 wip

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big-boah · 2 years

Note

FIRST — the first two sentences of my current project

LAST — the most recently written two sentences of my current project

NEXT — the next line. meaning i will finish the sentence I’m on and write a new one, which you’ll get.

[insert prompt here] — you post a prompt, and i’ll write three sentences based on that prompt, set in the same time/setting as my current project

THE END — i’ll make up an ending, or post the ending if i’ve written it

BEFORE THE BEGINNING — three sentences (or more) about something that happened before the plot of my current project

POV — something that’s already happened, retold from another character’s perspective

ALL OF THEM!!!

AHHH here goes nothing:

FIRST: "Goku parked his orange 2007 Honda Civic in the driveway of the Capsule Corp mansion. He was dressed for his lunch date in his usual "nice" outfit–a short-sleeve, plaid button-down shirt that accentuated his biceps and broad chest, with a tight white undershirt, faded blue jeans, and his signature green flip-flops."

LAST: "Each time he took a step forward, the man in front of him took a step back. They continued this dance for about 30 seconds before a booming voice interrupted them." (I'm literally in the middle of drafting lmao)

[Insert prompt here] 3 sentences based on the current project (I'll go wildcard for this one with a timestamp idea I outlined!): "Vegeta had no idea how anyone could enjoy themselves here, or why Goku insisted on him joining them so badly. Sand? Sun? Water? Three of the worst things he could think of. The group was planning this vacation for months, making sure to get it in before the weather got too cold."

THE END: Two words: "small" wedding.

BEFORE THE BEGINNING (I pretty much mention all the past stuff in the story but here's some fun facts): Before Chances started, Bulma and Yamcha were dating (why he lives at Capsule Corp just like canon) and she didn't have the heart to kick him out when he went and got a job actually helping people. Goku dated Chi-Chi in the past but they're still friends. Vegeta has a lot more experience than Goku in the sex department which Goku is ashamed to be surprised by. 😂

POV (yo this is an awesome writing exercise! the first chapter of Chances is from Goku's perspective so here is a blurb from Vegeta's POV at the very beginning of the story): "Vegeta didn't know if he'd ever get used to living so...high up. The home he just left was huge, similar to this one, but he never had a second-floor bedroom that had an always-on panoramic view of the city.

Vegeta could make out Bulma's voice responding to someone else's--the two voices traveled up the stairwell to Vegeta's doorstep, and he froze. The clock on his wall said it was 11:59 AM, which meant it was lunch time, but that also meant he'd have to go in the kitchen and possibly interact with this...stranger.

He blinked when the clock turned 12:01, peeling himself off his bed and making a beeline to his door--he had to do this all in one shot while he had the motivation. He flung the door open and let it slam shut behind him as he booked it down the stairwell.

"Hey Vegeta, want to join us for lunch?" Bulma asked after he turned the corner.

"Hnn." He mumbled in response, trying to shield his awareness from the wide-eyed glare of Bulma's guest. He thought about grabbing a plate of their food and heading back upstairs, but that would require interaction, so Vegeta made himself busy (and distracted) by arranging a bowl of cereal for himself and consuming it as fast as humanly possible.

"Huh...so he's not deaf." Vegeta's eyes flicked to Goku for a second, before he returned his focus to his meal.

...This guy is clearly an idiot.

"You can't blame me can you?" Goku's voice shifted in pitch, and Vegeta didn't understand why it sounded so forced. He considered a response for a second, but no words would come, so he went back to eating.

Vegeta felt himself frown when he saw Bulma's strange friend whispering to her. He assumed it was about him, based on the fact that Goku was glancing over at him every three seconds.

Bulma took it upon herself to announce that he was autistic, and he saw Goku immediately start whispering again. He'd had enough of the staring and announced his departure by tossing his dishes into the metal sink."

*phew* THAT WAS SO FUN THANK YOU 😁

#beegl #ask #vegeta shares #no excuses #writing version #sorry this turned into like a ficlet #fanfiction #ao3 fic #chances au #chances fic #chances verse #autistic vegeta #self projecting fic #thank you for this!

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tenrose · 7 months

Text

I feel like I'm being two different persons at the same time... Like I'm ok with my alone life at home, it's far from being perfect but I'm being more indulgent to myself than before. Like the crushing guilt of having done nothing of the whole weekend isn't as heavy as before, because I know I am exhausted from work 200% of the time so I won't do anything of my Saturdays unless someone else planned something for me and I'm being more gentle with me cause I know I need to rest, I'm literally always close to have a mental breakdown. Just feeling guilty cause laying in bed doesn't help my back to heal. But I've learnt to live with this constant disturbance in my leg. Lately I've been watching shows, old shows but hey that count as doing something. And actually it keeps me from respecting a good eating schedule so I can have time to watch an episode before going to sleep so it's a win. Haven't had time to finish the deep cleaning, so my apartment still looks like a mess, but however since we have deep cleaned the kitchen I'm able to maintain this part clean and tidy so I have faith in me. I just need help for the big cleaning but then I think I will finally be able to maintain my apartment clean (excluding the fact that I have a cat dudjsjz), and we might do the bathroom next week (both me and my aunt helping just have been too busy to have time). I take care of my health. And also I'm reading. Not as fast as I was, not as regularly as I would like too but I'm reading. And I can feel the positive impact it has on my brain. Also I listen to SFF related podcasts at work and it genuinely give my brain good food. I even wrote some idea in a draft sheet for the first time in a long time. I have the creative part of my brain constantly working in the background. Don't think it would lead me anywhere to write, but I just love so much to have new ideas flooding through my brain.

But then, on the other side, there's like I said, the constant edge of having a mental breakdown. And it's all because of one thing: work. Luckily I'm good with my colleagues (although we're only that and I still have not friends in the neighborhood), and we are all like this close to the breaking point. Some have been absent for a while so I suspect them to have had the mental breakdown in question. But yeah, we work early, with a lot of extra hours, and they always ask for more and although we're in our rights to refuse it's still mentally draining. Not to mention that instead of simply suppressing our productivity bonus and telling it us like that, they just recalculated the whole thing so it's basically unreachable and it makes it looks like it's our fault if we don't get it. Anyway basically everyone is pissed off, not to mention we don't even know if our client is gonna stay anyway... So yeah work basically fuck everything up. I mean I've always been running on low energy so it's not the only excuse for my numbness but honestly working for a capitalist piece of shit company really takes all the fun in life... although our wages are minimum I'm trying not to complain a lot cause my way of living doesn't cost me that much (no cars, no friends to meet in a restaurant, too exhausted to go shopping etc.) so I'm fine with my finances and can go the fuck out somewhere else during my vacations. But... I have to go back... and yes basically I want to live. And even though I do have the finances to survive months without a job, my past broke family trauma does not allow me to think like that. I could never quit without having another secure job after. But the problem is that I'm way too exhausted to look for one. And also tbh I don't even know what to do with my life... truth to be told I don't want to work. Submitting to capitalism fucking suck. I'm thinking more and more about try some civil service exam, because if I get a position it would be secure. I'm not even doing it for money anyway (but like a few more days off maybe lmao). But yeah it's an exam. So it means I'd have to work on it to have a chance to succeed and tell me folk when am I supposed to find the energy to work on anything after a 40+ hours week of work????? So basically I can never talk about that with anyone, cause my colleagues are either on the same page and the other people just think saying "well look elsewhere there's plenty of opportunities" helps someone with severe anxiety and lack of confidence like me. Also speaking with people... basically every workplace is like that anyway... there's literally no escape from capitalism. Anyway still not trying anything else is totally my fault and I know it and I don't know what to do...

So yes I have to slice my brain in two different parts otherwise I would totally break apart. Thank god escapism is back in a more healthy way in my mind (I still spend way too much time mindlessly scrolling but it's better than before I'm telling you).

#misc

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lillianofliterature · 2 years

Text

personal rant :|

i’m like—depressed. ish. more. again. like obviously it’s an up and down thing but I thought I was okayish? i was on this high of wanting to write and get things up and do all the things and then this last week or two just everything has lost its appeal. everything. now i can spend all day in bed and still not want to get up or do anything, which y’know, thats obviously not too good, lmao. i’m just so tired. but is it adhd tired or chronic illness/disability fatigue? it’s so hard to know what’s mental health and what’s my body asking for rest.

i’ve been trying to sit down and finish three different fics because they’re requests and I want to be punctual and efficient. but my inner self, like my brain or my executive function or whatever, is literally immobilized. the constant battle with my brain is exhausting.

I know I’m not alone in that, but it just really isolates a person. especially when I know that productivity makes me feel better emotionally, but I physically and mentally cannot achieve the goal i’m wanting so desperately to accomplish. then there’s the feeling of such inadequacy when I don’t do as much as I think I should/could be doing. (not looking for pity, this is just a personal rant.)

i seem to find myself back here after a few weeks or every couple moths in a cycle—even though I don’t post every week or update all the time, I am actively writing ideas, excerpts, and rough drafts CONSTANTLY. On sticky-pads, notebooks, notes apps, tumblr drafts, you name it. It never ends. And somehow I guess I burnout from that? But I don’t count that as productivity in my head because it isn’t a final product that is posted. obviously these are things i’ll telling my therapist this week lol. but for some reason I feel guilt for rants like this or even polite writing updates because they seem to always translate in my head as excuses for laziness, when in fact I’m just trying to juggle projects between inevitable burnout of the adhd-chronically-disabled-person cycle.

like I genuinely want to know how the eff I made it through grade school and high school? I know it was hell and I know I was working 24/7 days on assignments and spent all my time catching up to my peers (and had no social life apart from family lol)—but where did that urgency to do things go? the ability to get things done on a timeline with a somewhat solid routine? am I just in an Ultra Burnout™️ after going through school undiagnosed for both adhd AND chronic illness? hello brain? couLD YOU PLEASE DO SOMETHING AGAIN? MAKE SOME NOISE? LET ME KNOW YOU’RE STILL UP THERE?

anyway, stay tuned for this next week on ‘lillian lives by the seat of her pants and also whatever gives her immediate serotonin’. thank u for your patience, good day

#adhd #adhd writer #writing #i cant even cry about it #because apparently i cant cry anymore lmao #PLS BRAIN JUST DO SOMETHING #A FLIP #A COOL SOUND #MAYBE SOME SHADOW PUPPETS #ANYTHING #pls #RANT #personal rant #adhd rant

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mod-ibuki · 2 years

Text

“Hehe, bombs.”

M-I: Klee brings me severe joy. I am especially happy because this is my only draft left, woo. Read all tags by the way.

Summary: Byakuya, Makoto, Kokichi, and Nagito with younger sibling (you) who acts like Klee from Genshin Impact

Pairings: Byakuya + reader, Makoto + reader, Kokichi + reader, Nagito + reader

future note from Ell: at this time, i hadn't actually played genshin nor bothered digging into Klee's actual character so there might be some weird moments in this lmao

BYAKUYA TOGAMI

First of all, being your “babysitter” all the time simply couldn’t be, since he has work to do, so he gets people to care for you when he’s not present. If you misbehave while he’s gone, you’ll be put into timeout. Something that is unexpected while you’re in timeout is thst you’re making literal bombs. How did they find out about this?

Well, after your timeout had been completed, the maids and butlers heard an explosion come from a room that tou had just went into. Of course, they were all very concerned. Who wouldn’t be? They scrambled to the room, panicking. Where were you? What happened? What was that loud explosion?!

Then they found out who the explosion came from. It was from.. you. You had two things in your hand that they had originally thought were your “plushies,” but now that they heard the very loud explosions, they had suspected those were the bombs. Those were the only things in your hands, after all. Once they had caught, warned you about the bombs and that it can be very dangerous, you started becoming anxious.

“Oh no..! Did Y/N hurt anyone? Y/N didn’t mean to! Y/N didn’t mean it, I swear!” You ran out of the room and to Byakuya’s work room, and began violently knocking on the door. The door opened to a very irritated Byakuya, but he quickly softened when he saw you. “Y/N? What happened?”

He knows how chaotic and oblivious you are. Which is why he rarely leaves you with other people who are not familiar with your personality, as it can end up with you running away to look for him. Although he’s mostly in the mansion (or whatever the hell he lives in), sometimes he’s not there and you freak about because you have no one to go to.

Your “treasure” is important to you, and he’s never thought to deal with it unless it literally destroys the place and kills people. Your bombs are often used outside and on safe grounds, but Byakuya will kindly scold you if you use your bombs inside. When you are in timeout, he allows you to make bombs but will attempt to persuade you to just watch cartoons or play with toys. Often times, it doesn’t succeed since you always pick bombs.

“Y/N, perhaps let’s try watching this show. Steven Universe is what it’s called.” He would give you the remote, but you’d get bored about one episode later and skip through the channels, but wouldn’t be able to find anything entertaining, so you turn to Byakuya. He already knows what you’re going to say. “Can Y/N get their treasure?”

When you’re in Hope’s Peak with him, he (tries) to make you avoid everyone there, such as he does. He does not wish for acquaintances, but you’re obviously the opposite, you want friends and people to talk to. You’re quite lonely (minus the servants) in that mansion, so you’re looking forward to meet new people! You share your encounters with them to Byakuya of course. “Makoto was very nice, Kyoko was quiet..” and all that. He listens to what you say all the time, and that includes this.

“I applaud you for this information, Y/N.”

MAKOTO NAEGI

Uh. He needs help, he does not know how to control your energy.

“Y/N, wait!! You can’t use that!” Is what he’d say when you even attempt to unload your bombs. Of course, everytime, you frown and sadly walk away to the “timeout room” with Makoto, and depressingly sit on the bed. He sees your state, and decides to let you use your bombs in secret for “the last time.” He says that but it’s never actually the last time, Makoto just hates seeing you upset.

Once, he was not with you and you decided to use one of your toys you had brought along with you in your backpack. You unpacked one of your bombs, and walked up to Leon. “Wanna see something cool?” You excitedly said, jumping up and down, very much expecting him to agree. You were a child, and he was trying to be nice, so why not? “Sure, go ahead!” You showed him your bomb, which was designed to look like a plushie or a toy. He didn’t seem to have found the appeal, but he went with it anyway.

And then, an explosion happens. And Leon gets sent to the hospital. Makoto gets called, and you’re in trouble for your actions. When you’re back at his dorm, you’re kicking your feet while sitting on the bed, thinking about what you’ve done. “Y/N needs to think about what they’ve done.” Although you are sulking, you’re also not that bored. After all, you have Makoto with you! Even if you’re in timeout, your energy doesn’t sink at all.

Once you are finished with timeout, you run out of the room and to Leon. “Y/N’s sorry! I didn’t mean to..!” Of course, Leon just puts up two thumbsup and says something about it not being a big deal. He knows you’d never hurt anyone on purpose, you just have quite the habit of carrying those things around, even when Makoto is present with you. Makoto tries to get your bombs away from you, but you always manage to convince him that you wouldn’t do any harm. But also, how could he resist your cuteness?

You go to class with him, to which he’s very happy about. This means you can hang out with him a lot more!! You two try getting along with your classmates, it mostly goes well. More so for you though. Makoto loves being around you, although you are indeed quite chaotic, you’re overall not a problem for him and he loves your company! Looks away from the bombs

KOKICHI OUMA

I think it’s safe to say that the both of you get along very, very well.

Everyone is either crying, ready to kill Kokichi, or are just done with you. Kokichi doesn’t stop your chaos either, which makes it even worse. Instead, he cheers you on about it. “Go, Y/N, go! I’ll protect you!” Then you set off your bombs. Luckily, they never hurt anyone, and while Kokichi found your bombs fun, you didn’t want to hurt anyone. So you two made a deal, “fine, we can use your bombs but we’re not using them around other people so we don’t hurt them. Deal?”

By the way, the way you two bond is more than entertaining. To put it short, you and Kokichi prank people. Most of the people can’t really do anything since you’re a child, but Kokichi doesn’t get that free pass just because he’s 5’1 since he’s 17, and you’re.. well, a kid. They can’t bully a kid so easily.

Both of you are almost never apart from each other. It’s like you two have magnets stuck to you that always find a way to connect you and Kokichi. Even when Kokichi is getting chased and is near dying, you show up out of nowhere and explode your bomb, disappearing into the smoke to somewhere else.

Whenever you prank someone, Kokichi claps endlessly for you. “Good job, Y/N! Momota will surely have to find this funny.” Then Kaito wakes up. You’re gonna have one hella angry astronaut on your end, good luck! But anyway, he loves how chaotic you are. He finally has someone who he can destroy everyone with. Kokichi still remembers that one time you blew up Shuichi’s dorm though.

“Shumai!” You ran up to him, scrambling to get your pack back in place so he wouldn’t see the bombs, even though he had already suspected you had a few in there. Though, he didn’t think you were gonna do anything with it. Shuichi allowed you into his dorm, and while you were going inside, you innocently smiled and gave a thumbsup to Kokichi, signaling that the plan was officially in action (in his eyes. In your eyes, it’s just being helpful to poor Shuichi). He gave you a thumbsup back, snickering to himself as he watched the door close behind you.

And then.. he heard the explosion. After that incident, you had been forced to go into timeout to think about what you did. Kokichi’s attempts to get you out of timeout were unsuccessful, as Maki was guarding the door and Kirumi was inside, obliging to whatever you needed to be distracted from your bombs. “Do you want candy, Y/N? Perhaps these would do.”

After you are let out from your prison, he’s wailing. “WAAAAAH!! I MISSED YOUU!” Others would believe he’s a bothersome brother (which sometimes, he is but whatever), but to you, it’s someone you would never give up for anything.

NAGITO KOMAEDA

yes

Surprisingly yet not surprisingly, he doesn’t allow you to set off your bombs (most of the time). Although Nagito has no problem with the Ultimates seeing him as insane and such (even though he’s just doing it for “the sake of hope”), he does mind that the Ultimates get injured. He lectures you about this, while you keep tapping your foot and boredom.

But, you listen to the lecture about it anyway. You do need to learn from your mistakes and all, it was important. “Ohh! Y/N understands!” You put your hands up in the air, ecstatic that timeout had been complete and that you still understood the lesson, even if you were really bored! Nagito praises you, enlightened that you listened to him. “Amazing, Y/N! Listening to me is truly an accomplishment.”

You do not like it when he degrades himself, at all. Because you’re a child, so you don’t know how you’re supposed to deal with it. So, you just shoot through his words and disagree (politely), telling him that you love him and that he shouldn’t say such mean things. He can’t even use his “but I’m truly trash” argument because it would be never ending and he kinda has to accept defeat, because you refuse to back down.

Nagito has enough money to get whatever the hell you want, so he definitely gets you a lot of things. This includes plushies, toys, sketch books, all the stuff a kid would normally have. Also, wherever you want to go, you can go! He is stacked with money. Once he sees your cute excited little face once you go someplace new or he gives you something, he has no regrets in life. Seeing your joy gives him so much hope, it truly does.

#danganronpa #danganronpa x reader #sdr2 #triggerhappyhavoc #goodbye despair #killing harmony #nagito komaeda x reader #reader insert #kokichi ouma x reader #makoto naegi x reader #byakuya togami x reader #PLATONIC #NOT ROMANTIC #Completed!#child reader

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valkyrayn · 2 years

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herro. can i get 'i could watch you ride me all day' and 'please, ruin me?' for marius pls hihi thank you!

okay as promised, here's part 2 – part 1 is here in case you missed it. decided to use this anon request so i can get two requests out of the way with this series. this one is just straight up porn lmao. i literally got too horny that i couldn't continue writing. this had to sit in the drafts for days bcus of that. that and also bcus i was too busy celebrating christmas. sorry if this was messy (hehe) i'll probably proofread it later once the horny dies down lmao

Pairing: Marius von Hagen x afab!reader

Words: 2.0k words

Tags: fwb relationship, handcuffs, messy, sloppy sex, blowjob, deepthroat, doggy, rough sex, squirting, multiple creampies, breeding kink, cum swallowing, cock riding, dirty talking, shameless smut, just straight up porn, plot is there if you squint

Inspo: audio inspo | visual

“Fuck…you’re gonna make me–hnng…cum down your throat...”

Fuck does it feel good to be in control. It’s a sight that will burn into your head forever – Marius von Hagen, young heir of Pax Group, handcuffed to your bed and losing his absolute fucking mind over you deepthroating him. The power trip provoked something in you, your heightened arousal making you more feral and nastier than usual.

Tears pool in your eyes when you start taking him deeper, challenging your gag reflex. The head of his cock hits the back of your throat, forcing a gush of saliva out of you, coating his entire length. You don’t stop – his loud moans only urging you on to stimulate him more, hollowing your cheeks around him and then pulling away with a wet pop.

The air conditioned room does nothing to help bring down the heat that’s emanating from both your naked bodies. Your eyes linger briefly on him, noticing the thin sheen of sweat on his neck all the way to his heaving chest, making his skin shimmer under the dim artificial light in the room.

Marius is just so goddamn nice to look at — from his handsome boyish face down to his athletic body; hell, even his cock is amazing to look at. It’s unfair how he lucked out this much in the gene department and the fact that he knows just how attractive he is makes him dangerous.

As your saliva makes its slow trail down the length of his cock, you hear him curse softly under his breath followed by the rattling sound of the handcuffs as he starts tugging on them again. Much to your relief, despite his many attempts, he still remains chained to your bed – but considering the quality of the handcuffs, you know they’re not going to hold him there for long. All he needs is a few more tries…

You move from between his legs to straddle him again, your knees on either side of him with your cunt hovering above him, just inches away from his length. Marius looks down at his twitching cock, desperately seeking contact with your wet heat but you raise your hips to avoid him, just to frustrate him even further.

“Use your words, von Hagen.” You smile teasingly at him, running your nails down his chest, then further down his navel towards his cock. You wrap your fingers around it and give it a few languid strokes, eliciting a strangled moan from him.

“Please ride my cock. Need to be—inside you…”

He doesn’t have to ask twice. You’re already squatting on top of him so you can line his tip against your entrance, your slick mixing with the precum dribbling out from the slit of his cock. Placing your hands on his chest, you slowly sink down onto him, your moans come out in unison once his girth pushes past your entrance, stretching your tight walls to accommodate him.

“A-ah…your cunt feels so good…so tight.” You hear him say, his words making you cream around him, your walls spasming and gripping his cock like a vice. Despite your trembling legs, you continue bouncing on his cock, using your hands on his chest as leverage. The slapping sound of your ass against his soaked thighs reverberates throughout the room – as your pace increases, the louder it becomes.

“God–fuck…I could watch you ride me all day…” Marius says through gritted teeth, watching you bounce desperately on him, your breaths coming out sharp at each downward motion. You’re nearing your orgasm and he can tell from the way your pace has started to falter.

“Shit–don’t…you dare fucking–stop, baby,” he says, thrusting his hips upwards so suddenly that it almost made your heart stop. His tip touches your cervix and he stays there – forcing the orgasm out of you, your legs trembling uncontrollably as you cum around him, your juices gushing out of you and soaking his thighs. The way your walls clench around him sends him to the brink and he tries to hold back, but your squirting and the way you’re screaming his name proved to be too much for him.

“Ah~” you sigh, feeling him erupt inside you, his cum spurting out of his cock and into your womb. You can’t be bothered to think about the consequences right now, the pleasure alone is enough to make you want to risk it all.

With a shuddering exhale, you fall forward onto his body, your tits pressed against his hard chest – your whole body limp from the explosive release. You whine at the feeling of your combined fluids dripping out of you and the way his cock twitches and swell against your walls. Before you even have the chance to fully recover from your high, you hear the snap of the chain being broken – you don’t even need to look to know that he’s escaped from the cuffs.

Accepting defeat, you grip onto the sheets below him and shut your eyes, willing your body to him, to let him use you and fulfill his promise.

“Mmm…told you you’re gonna regret this,” he whispers in your ear before rolling your body off of him and pinning you against the bed. “Hnn–Marius!” you yell when he shoves his fingers inside your cunt, still sensitive from your previous orgasm. But he doesn’t care, your pleas will fall on deaf ears – he only has one goal in mind, and that is to fuck you stupid.

Two of his fingers pump in and out of you, shoving his cum deeper into you while his thumb is pressed against your nub, occasionally moving down to circle your clit. He still has the cuffs on, the broken chain that’s hanging from them brushes against your inner thighs, tickling you and sending shivers up your spine.

He grabs onto your thighs to keep you still when you start squirming against him, his grip sinking into your skin that you’re sure they’re going to leave marks. Marius pushes your thighs apart and leans his face closer to your pussy, your folds glistening from all the combined fluids. He locks his eyes with yours as he spits onto your cunt, coating your clit with his saliva before diving in to take it in his mouth.

“Aaaah–oh fuck!” You scream into the ceiling, your hips bucking violently against his face, smearing your slick all over his mouth and nose. The smell of your sex drives him absolutely feral and he sinks his tongue in your hole, swirling it around before licking up the length between your folds and proceed to suck onto your nub.

Released from his grip, your thighs clamp shut around him, legs shuddering on either side of head as you cum in his mouth, the overwhelming sensation blurring your vision. He pulls away to watch you, your juices gushing out of you and onto him, soaking everything else within the radius.

He doesn’t wait for you to recover, immediately flipping you around and positions you on your hands and knees only briefly before he pulls your arms back and keeps them locked behind you. Wrapping a hand around your neck, he pulls you roughly towards him so your back is pressed against his chest while his cock nestles snugly between the crack of your ass.

Grabbing onto your jaw, he turns your head slightly towards him and kisses you, his tongue pushing its way into your mouth and invading you. You moan against him, realizing that he’s gathered his cum in his mouth so he can have you swallow it. You welcome it, kissing him back with the same aggression, sucking onto his tongue to taste your combined fluids.

It’s an obscene sight and you can’t help but blush at how far you’ve come from being an inexperienced virgin to this. You never expected to be so sexually connected to a person like this, convinced that no one else can ever make you feel this good besides him.

“Please…ruin me…” you hear yourself say and he pulls away briefly to look at you, a smirk playing on his lips. “I will baby…I fucking will,” he replies and kisses you again, his hand moving down your neck to grab onto your breast, roughly kneading it just to make you moan into his mouth.

Marius releases you briefly, letting you fall face first onto the bed, your ass in the air and presented to him. He lines his thick cock at your dripping entrance and drives himself home, all the way to the hilt – eliciting a sharp cry from you. He bullies his way into your cunt, repeatedly pulling out fully only to slam back in with a force so he can hear the headboard hit the wall. He wants the neighbors to know how hard he’s fucking you – wants them to know who’s making you scream like that.

Hot white pleasure pools within your womb and you feel overwhelmed and fucked out of your mind. It’s sloppy and messier than usual – his pumping shoves the cum from his previous orgasm out of you and you can feel it dripping, leaving a messy trail down your thigh. Strings of sticky fluids pulling and snapping each time his skin makes contact against yours.

The pace of his thrusting increases and your grip tightens around the sheet, face buried into the mattress so you can scream as loud as your lungs would allow. At this angle, he’s consistently hitting your g-spot and it doesn’t take long for you to explode once again, squirting around him and coating his abdomen with your juices.

“Oh–fuck,” he grunts, his pace steady as he continues to pound mercilessly into your cunt, his cock slipping out a few times from how wet and slippery it has gotten. Grabbing onto his length, he pushes himself back inside you and starts pumping harder in and out of your swollen cunt to chase his own release. The sound of his balls smacking against your wet pussy becoming louder as he pummels faster into you.

Your legs give out, your hips falling onto the bed forcing him to detach himself from you. You only had a few seconds to catch your breath before he flips you over and onto your back, pushing your legs towards your chest then proceeds to plunge his cock back inside you, stretching your walls once again.

With little strength that you have left, you roll your hips against him, meeting his thrust to help him reach his release faster. With a loud guttural moan and a final hard thrust against your womb, he finally ejaculates inside you – filling you to the brim once again with his seed. Jets of hot cum spurt into you, painting your walls white and you whine at the sensation, your body trembling uncontrollably against him.

Marius grabs onto your breasts and starts kneading as he tries to catch his own breath. The sensation of the cold chain from the cuffs brushing against your hot skin is the only thing keeping you conscious, your mind numb from everything else.

After releasing most of the load inside you, he pulls out and pumps the last few drops of cum onto your tits then proceeds to smear it all over your heaving chest. He smiles down at you and takes in the sight of your beautiful and used body, all wet and sticky from all kinds of bodily fluids.

“I have a question..” he trails, lying down beside you. Your eyes flutter open and you turn to face him to find him smiling softly at you. “Do you like me?” He asks.

His question came unexpectedly and you find yourself stumbling on your words, trying to think of an answer. You know the answer but you can’t bring yourself to admit it, yet. “I–uh…like? Like, like like?” You’re not making any sense, your muddled brain still trying to recover from all the sex. He laughs, climbing on top of you, arms propped on either side of your head before leaning down to place a small kiss on your lips, the gentleness a huge contrast from how he kisses you earlier.

“It’s okay. Maybe I’ll just need to fuck you a few more times for you to know…” He says, grinning – his hand sliding down your body, towards your pussy. He gathers the dripping cum and shoves it back inside you, before bringing the same fingers towards your face, pushing his digits into your mouth. You swallow his cum earnestly and it dawns on you of how addicted you’ve become to the taste of him.

You spend the next few hours moaning his name, getting thoroughly fucked out of your mind. But after countless of orgasms, when the exhaustion finally consumes you, you start begging for him to stop—to have mercy on your overstimulated body.

But he’s relentless. Even as you fall limp against his arms, he doesn’t retire, staying true to his promise.

“Remember, you’re not getting any sleep tonight…”

#brainrotdump #smut prompts #lu jinghe #marius von hagen #totnsfw #tot smut #anon asks #marius x reader #marius von hagen smut #prompt request

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